ObsidianNoir
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Cant have shit under the church
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Sometimes The Light At The End Of The Tunnel Is An Oncoming Train [DxD / Celestial Dojo SI]
- Thread starter BlueHelix
- Start date
Warper6
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huh
How'd they track down the faith eroding effects to him that fast?
JoshieWoshie
Well dressed, for the occasion
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I wasn't aware Nishina was actually Nakiri haha. But yeah, brain melt is a unfortunate side effect of DxD deep reading.
insertname099
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What's this from? North God, or Captain...? The perk descriptions don't seem to mention anything about faith erosion, unless I'm exceptionally blind today.
Chaosfox13
Versed in the lewd.
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Aww, we don't get the prototype for whales.
NemoMarx
Getting sticky.
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Anything about knowing God is dead in dxd starts doing it. I think saying it or fucking with miracles would do it faster, but they probably want to isolate you before you get around to that?
RookDeSuit
Versed in the lewd.
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Which sucks because he knows he can't say anything, and wouldn't but can't leave any loose ends, I guess.
Josematos977
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So the church is going with the strong arms method of recruiting.
NemoMarx
Getting sticky.
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I figure Michael got the prayer ping and then followed up and noticed it, so heaven doesn't have the context about it. just "a strong believer showed up who knows the deal"
(because at the time of the prayer in chapter 1 haru didn't know it was dxd but then figured that out after right? so it would look like someone stumbled onto the secret and changed their position I bet)
Kind of a knee jerk response but humans finding out at a big Catholic university would be really bad. maybe it'll be cleared up if agents of the church can have a talk or something?
JoshieWoshie
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Nah, just knowing the deal makes you damage the system if you're near a place with a connection to heaven of which Sophia University definitely is.
Mind Wiping and Brain Washing 'might' be in the cards. But they didn't do that to Xenovia, even if there could be many factors as to why she could just dip and peace out, so who knows.
TheFabulousCustodes
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The existence and threat of devils?
Meh.
Being forced to take out student loans?
Five alarm panic.
Thanks for the chapter!
6NuttBuster9
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TYFTC
BlueHelix
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I am incredibly happy I didn't have to figure it out because getting a giant demonic whale right around Church censure would've been incredibly diabolical
tbh, the most ridiculous thing about the Leviathan aside from its well, sheer scale (and being called the Leviathan in DxD) is more that uh, the Hearthstone is likely a 5 dot one, and high end Hearthstones in 2e (and to a lesser degree 3e) exalted are... spooky
Manse rules are manse rules too, but thankfully not my problem. For now, anyway.
The Church gave quite a lot, but hey, the rules are the rules, haha...
Thanks, my brain was melted from figuring out the Five Clans and N-surname got blended together
Haru's not going to get the full details for awhile and you guys already guessed most of it already, but yeah, the fundamental thrust of it is that Haru is now a poison to God's System.
Volume 4 said:
Incidentally, people do tend to believe that the higher-ups of the Church all know it, but the VIP conference on Heaven's side has no Church members, it's only Angels
Volume 4 said:
(The "unknown girl" is likely Gabriel, but it's never actually mentioned, iirc)
Xenovia says that she's talked about the absence of God, but I honestly don't think that the people genuinely believed her or internalized it, so she just becomes a heretic because she literally believes something against doctrine, in that God is gone / dead lolVolume 3 said:
In any case, the sequence of events was that Michael got pinged by a really heartfelt and genuine prayer back in Chapter 1, a very, very specific prayer to St. Michael the Archangel:
Michael logs it, feels bad because he can't answer it, and would have put it out of his mind if it wasn't for--
Faith is one of the big things that run's God's system and appears to be sourced, and under some interpretations is one of the main things that gives additional power to gods / Gods / etc, especially as you know, Michael says that the "source of us living in Heaven is the faith of believers," and humans are pretty uniquely suited to give Faith in some degree.
It's a little bit fast and loose because I was kind of mindbending myself writing this out late last night, but Haru basically began to channel a lot of tainted Faith into God's system and Michael went "wait, I recognize the flavor of this faith" alongside the "fuck fuck fuck" and with Haru being in one of the centers of the Church's power in Tokyo (they would've gotten a much less polite notice in Nagasaki or Amakusa, haha...) it became a relative matter of urgency to cut them off.
In any case...
It's really a cherry on top of a shit sandwich. Knowing the world's going to have to deal with an apocalyptic alien invasion (literally apocalyptically so, as Great Red was the Dragon of Revelation) thanks to a boob fairy is already bleak, but you know as Azazel says (even if he can't be trusted worth shit), a world without God still moves. Haru was pulling themselves together, trying to get some semblance of normalcy back into their life for at least today, and then uh
A very real physical severing between the past and the present
There's some nuance on excommunications and stuff -- Catholic teaching has it be medicinal rather than vindictive, but I just got back from a long day at work so if people really want to get into it I'll either talk about it later or in the chapter itself. Haru has some people to talk to, haha...
Lunus17
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Guessing this is what gave the game away lol. Regardless of his knowledge I hope its not an immediately hostile relationship with the Church. I'd love to see another DxD fic which isnt so devil centric, Church exorcist would have been interesting but I'm guessing he'll go more of a shinto route
For reference this is the wiki page for the Dicastery for the Doctrine of the Faith he got the letter from. Seems like its dually responsible for maintaining doctrinal discipline and acting as kind of like the US Supreme Court but for heresy cases and doctrinal disputes rather than the US Constitution.
K.st0ne
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In Micheal's Mind:
- Believer pray in time of need and doesn't get answer.
- Believer awakened super power and now think god is dead.
If I was in place of Micheal, it looks like some believer encountered supernatural and prayed but didn't receive answer. Believer must have genuinely believed in God to concluded non answer means God is dead, cause if God was alive they would have helped believer. About God not existing? That's crazy talk, of course God is real.
Though from that point view, believer seems very narcissistic to think he deserve being saved, and God not saving equals death, lol.
- Believer pray in time of need and doesn't get answer.
- Believer awakened super power and now think god is dead.
If I was in place of Micheal, it looks like some believer encountered supernatural and prayed but didn't receive answer. Believer must have genuinely believed in God to concluded non answer means God is dead, cause if God was alive they would have helped believer. About God not existing? That's crazy talk, of course God is real.
Though from that point view, believer seems very narcissistic to think he deserve being saved, and God not saving equals death, lol.
Karnax626
Getting sticky.
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The impression I got was that the Captain perk hard boosted the effect of his 'tainted faith', which is how he was singles out here, but if that hadn't happened he still would've been caught eventually? I can't tell if Michael could actually tell from that mid-fight prayer that he knew God was dead or not.
K.st0ne
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Author replied them in comment
WolfHairJump
Zero to hero
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Great story!
Wolfjob
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Randomly getting fucked by church higher-ups after he turned out to be special? Looks like he got sold out to the devils lul,just like Asia-chan.
EDIT: Apparently Nietzsche is banned literature in DxD,kinda forgot about that
EDIT: Apparently Nietzsche is banned literature in DxD,kinda forgot about that
Last edited:
Despacitoleo
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Hope the author fucks over those devils fallen the heaven cause Jesus dxd author dropped the ball on the supposed good guys
Hell the canonical cast are a bunch of jobbers and genuine peices of shit covered by shounen BS
Also awsome fic man this is super good will totally still read even if the mc fucks with those disgusting devils
Hell the canonical cast are a bunch of jobbers and genuine peices of shit covered by shounen BS
Also awsome fic man this is super good will totally still read even if the mc fucks with those disgusting devils
Legionofliving
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@BlueHelix
Question, is this fic a gonna be a devil glazing fic like most others in this site?
Question, is this fic a gonna be a devil glazing fic like most others in this site?
CHAPTER FOUR: MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MONTH
New
BlueHelix
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CHAPTER FOUR: MENTAL HEALTH AWARENESS MONTH
Ordinarily, I'd be pretty appreciative of the opportunity of being where I was. The Metropolitan Area Outer Underground Discharge Channel, also known as the "G-Cans" after the initiative that popularized the area surrounding it for regional development, was frankly a hidden wonder of the world. The largest underground floodwater diversion facility in the world, it had begun construction more than a decade ago and had recently been completed a year or two ago, thanks to the ever-increasing risk of flooding that Tokyo suffered thanks to the Tone River.
Mitigating the risks of monsoon season had been the work of literal centuries, beginning during the Tokugawa Shogunate back in the late 16th century, but the situation had become untenable after Typhoon Mireilles in 1991, the worst storm that had struck Japan in my lifetime, which had flooded over a hundred square kilometers in the northern suburbs of Tokyo. Faced with no other option, as Tokyo had minimal space aboveground to handle the floodwaters, engineers set about building the "world's biggest drain." Five concrete silos sixty-five meters tall, seventy-eight thirteen thousand horsepower pumps that could pump two hundred metric tons into the Edo River per second, and 6.4 kilometers of tunnels fifty meters beneath the city that interconnected it all. While the "Underground Temple" was open to the public whenever it wasn't the typhoon season of June to November, I had been granted the privilege of entering the many, many restricted-access areas.
Unfortunately, that was because it wasn't much of a privilege, as I wasn't here as a tourist. No, I was here in my capacity as Tokyo's newest (supernatural) pest control technician. With all the ambient negativity in the city and the widespread increase of people with minimal to no safety net, all sorts of things had started to go bump in the night. Various malicious youkai that wanted to get out of the southwest or just the countryside in general, whatever the Three Factions had brought along with them to Tokyo like Stray Devils or escaped experiments from the Grigori, and finally the restless dead. I had encountered literal funayūrei down here over the weeks I had ventured down here, which was baffling. Weren't they supposed to be out at sea, or at least at lakes and rivers? There were no boats here for them to sink, but they did their level best to drown me anyways.
Aside from the waterborne ghosts content to ruin my life, all of these creatures had to find places to reside, both in terms of finding sustenance and also to not immediately get destroyed by the various patrols of the more proactive supernatural community. There were minimal places for them to exist on the surface that were near accessible hunting grounds, as abandoned properties rarely remained abandoned or property for long, but all that meant was that they just had to get underground. Immaterial beings could slip through the walls, shapeshifting creatures could squeeze through the cracks, and those who couldn't do either made do with access tunnels or storm drains. With a nice damp dark residence away from the sun and the ability to pop out at night to snag a civilian when you're hungry, many an entity had made themselves quite comfortable down here so long as they could handle the inevitable flooding. Some could be negotiated with, which shrine members often took care of. The rest…
The rest, they left for me.
Fighting in a place like Tokyo was an exercise in restraint. Heavily urbanized, with massive amounts of potential collateral damage if I didn't control my strength, I had to constantly check some of my own instincts. I couldn't fling projectiles coated with my Battle Aura casually or else they would go through multiple walls, slamming opponents against surfaces could cause genuine infrastructural damage, and if I really went all out and struck something I could erase city blocks.
This went double for when I was underground, surrounded by valuable infrastructure. I doubted I could cause a genuine geologic event even with how earthquake-prone Japan was unless I lost my mind, but disrupting infrastructure or causing sinkholes was a genuine concern. Everything around me could be important in some way, and it was entirely possible with all the unsanctioned alterations that had been done by the entities inhabiting the tunnels, any further damage could become catastrophic.
Thankfully, while North God Style could scrap with the best of them, a significant number of branches had specialized into how I was fighting right now: with economy of motion, as little noise as possible, and a minimum of strikes. An assassin, in other words. I was even dressed the part to some degree, although unintentionally so, as I was wearing a poncho, the clothing loose enough to not tear if I needed to move at any real speed and sufficiently waterproof to keep any dripping fluids off me.
Despite the smells, the dank feeling that wouldn't disappear until I cleaned myself at home, and the unfriendly faces, it wasn't all bad down here. In fact, I had many teachers, even if they couldn't precisely talk. The rats had taught me a survivor's footwork with strong unpredictability and a surprisingly respectable short-range strike. The snakes and cats that hunted them down here taught me how to coil my body properly for strikes and a quiet grace to not be noticed until it was too late. Most interesting of all were the innumerable number of insects, and from them I had learned precision and not just how to move quickly, but react swiftly too. The insights on evasion and survival I had learned from the common fly were frankly terrifying.
And as a good student, I made sure to practice regularly. After all, there were so many friendly combatants down here that I could exchange pointers with. For example, the host of spirits that were helpfully offering themselves for my education in front of me.
In a more typical battlefield, I would be concerned about whether more ghosts and other such creatures would spawn behind me, and to be frank, it wasn't entirely impossible. But in order for that to happen, it would have to be able to coalesce and travel through the dozens to hundreds of ofuda that I applied to the walls of the tunnels as I traversed deeper and deeper into the network, at a distance of about of one every five meters, one on each side, the ceiling, and the floor.
Ordinarily, such applications would not be necessary, especially as it would be entirely likely that quite a few would be washed away in the rainy season, but the times were what they were in Tokyo, and ensuring that fewer ghosts and gribblies crept up through our feet for a few months before the monsoons came was critical, especially as I had begun mapping out further unsanctioned additions to the network. Nevertheless, the ofuda were made to last, so while a significant amount would be torn away by the rushing waters of the upcoming storms, many more would remain, and so only fixes would have to be applied. Perhaps even more importantly, it wouldn't require me to be the one to apply them either, the only free High-Class combatant available to the shrines at the moment.
Such a network would naturally have a profound aura of sacred energy, which in a typical case would repel the malicious youkai to come return when circumstances were better. However, I had a counter-strategy of releasing a minute amount of my tightly-controlled Battle Aura as bait, the magical power wafting off incredibly tempting to the beasts hiding within the shadows. While even that much would act as a repellent to an individual creature, the steady purification of the tunnels had herded them together into groups, and in groups, even cowards could find courage. And so here they were, coalescing and grouped in front of me, ready to be sent off to their true afterlife, whatever it was.
"M-m-my h-h-homework!!"
"I c-c-c-an't be late for w-w-w-ork…"
"Where a-a-am I? W-w-where is my family?!"
And as the howling host advanced upon me, I cleared my mind and advanced upon them in turn.
With a brutal crunch, I reached out to the first pair that set itself upon me and crushed ectoplasmic skulls with clawed fingers. Throwing their fading remains in front of me to gain further space, I flattened my hands and decapitated twice-dead corpses with bladelike neck chops. Grabbing more ghostly heads as grips, I yanked myself forward, my reinforced elbows blowing a hole through those attempting to sneak up behind me and my knee blowing a path through the group, although it immediately refilled. When groups of spirits piled on me time and time again, herded by the other, more powerful yōkai , an efficient, wound-up strike could blow them all away, their bodies likely acting as a cushion enough to not ensure any collateral damage, but I found that I did not desire nor need to risk such a thing on a day to day basis. And so I remained in the muck, reinforcing my points of contact as I waded through the morass.
The only real potential issue was for the more immaterial creatures attempting to escape through the walls, but all that really required was a good eye and a swift limb. Creatures of obsession they tended to be, they never truly ran far away. Once again, they craved more than anything else a good meal, and that for them was a strong, healthy soul. Accordingly, my soul had now brightened enough for even a thousand feasts for them, and so they would inevitably return like a two-bit horror movie villain. I had lost count of how many had tried to float out of the shadow beneath my feet that I would simply just kick the head off.
Now fully baited with a taste of my Battle Aura, traces of the energy wafting through the crowd, the spirits advanced without reserve. The swarm screeched, wailed, and chittered as they crawled towards me, crawling over each other just to get to me a little bit quicker, funneling themselves into my waiting fists. This time, I waited for them properly, keeping my feet firmly on the ground as my hands began flickering through the air, firing off tight, controlled bursts, ensuring that I delivered the maximum amount of force with minimal wasted follow-through. Striking, not pushing, was the mantra I kept in my head as I bobbed and weaved through the morass. Creatures like these couldn't even meaningfully scratch me, weak as they were, and dodging wasn't truly necessary. In the end, however, every fight I was in was a place to learn, and it wouldn't do to pick up bad habits when I didn't have to. I was probably picking up a few fighting creatures this weak, but it was what it was.
The "fight" itself most likely didn't last more than a minute, or even half of one, but it still felt like an eternity had passed before the last pile of ectoplasm had finally been laid to rest. Trails of smoke faintly wafted off the floor, walls, and my clothes and fists, the remains of the hungry ghosts fading away into wherever their souls hopefully should have gone in the first place. Given the circumstances a lot of them undoubtedly had died in, it was unlikely any large number of them would be worshipped as a kami-sama by any of their family members, but hopefully they would reincarnate into a better life.
Hopefully they would have better luck than I had.
That fight turned out to be the most eventful part of the patrol for me. All I had to do afterward was keep on applying the ofuda I had been supplied, and with that section completed, we only really truly had the bowels of the stormwater and drainage system left before it was cleaned out. Naturally, that also left the rest of the sixteen kilometer-long wastewater system that the G-Cans system was thankfully not connected to to try and clean up, but that would be a whole different beast. As dirty as stormwater could be, it was pretty reasonable to walk through these tunnels. In contrast, it would be much less pleasant to wade through places where sewage traversed. As well-engineered as the Tokyo sewage system undoubtedly was, it certainly wasn't designed to be traversed on foot by the general public.
Hazards like toxic gases could still accumulate, and random flooding could still occur in truly unpredictable fashions, in comparison to the "if it wasn't raining, you'll probably be fine" of the stormwater drainage. While I was tough enough to manage any physical damage, I certainly wasn't capable of holding my breath long enough for patrols to remove the risk of poisonous inhalations, undoubtedly enhanced by any of the unwelcome guests down there as well, and my colleagues probably weren't any better equipped. We'd have to get purification talismans for both the body and the environment bare minimum, as well as updated maps. The G-Cans system had been completed fairly recently so the tunnels were well-mapped, but the beginnings of the wastewater piping traced back to the Kanda system back in Meiji-era Japan, well over a century ago. Plenty of unauthorized additions would have been made, so navigation talismans or just plain old navigation or mapping software would probably be needed as well.
Well, it wasn't something that I would have to decide in the first place. As much respect as I had obtained working with Nishina-san and the other shrines in the past month, power did not necessarily correspond with strategic and logistical capability, so it was rather thoroughly over my head. It wasn't impossible for me to get on that level, but that kind of input required trust and showing of capability that probably would take more than a month to acquire, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to so thoroughly attach myself to any particular organization at the moment. Not after getting so unceremoniously removed from one that had raised me for my entire second life.
I sighed, thoughts flickering through my head as I walked out of one of the side entrances to the facility, the noontime sun warming my face. It was a rather pretty day, and despite this being a municipal water infrastructure plant, there was a surprisingly large amount of people moving about here, undoubtedly part of the community initiative that had popularized the "G-CANS" nickname in the first place. Walking through them to a side alley I could quickly scale, despite the hustle, bustle, and liveliness of the people, I couldn't help but only feel like the stakes for doing everything perfectly were never higher.
One usually thought that fighting monsters would have to be by moonlight, hidden from the eyes of the public, but being in the depths of Tokyo's subterranean maze was disguise enough. The light of the sun banished much of the man-eating population back down to where we wanted them, and they were supposedly weaker as well due to their nocturnal preferences. Things were probably going to get trickier now that we had coated so many of the tunnels, as it was entirely possible that by having the network incompletely sealed, we had left enough of an opening that we were driving the spirits up and out into other areas while agitated. However, that was a risk that the senior priests and priestesses had apparently accounted for, with additional manpower assigned to the evening patrols in the last few days. Apparently some personnel had been pulled from shrines outside of Tokyo, some of which may have even been from the Ise Grand Shrine. If that was the case, I hadn't heard anything official, but scuttlebutt had a way of outpacing even the speed of light.
Pulling out yet another talisman, this time I applied it on myself. It was one of Nishina-san's shrine's more specialized ofuda, one dedicated to stealth and misdirection. It wouldn't do for me to be seen leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and given the distance from the G-Cans facility in Saitama to my apartment in Shinjuku was about thirty kilometers, although going by foot would be quicker than public transport, going unconcealed was too much of a risk. Concealment applied, I began my journey home with a quick flicker up to the rooftops.
Unfortunately, that left me to my thoughts on why I was doing effectively mercenary work for Shinto priests — my censure from the Catholic Church.
No longer being in good standing with the Church meant my academic career at Sophia was effectively over, and with that my scholarship, and with that my housing stipend. If I didn't have the ability to punch ghosts, I would've been in real steep trouble, for there was only so many hours Sakamoto-san could offer me. All of this was compounded by the fact that I was being censured by the Church in a way I didn't even know existed.
The joke about being Catholic was that you could become an apostate, be an obstinate and unrepentant heretic, or even convert and join a terrorist organization of another religion, and all you would be was a very bad Catholic. It was taught that once you were baptized, you were indelibly marked on your soul as a Catholic forever, and considering how this world was, I couldn't discount this at all. And so, excommunication wasn't supposed to remove you from the Church either.
Excommunication, from what I had researched and learned in both of my lives was a supposed to be "medicinal," rather than an "expiatory" or "vindictive" penalty. What that meant was that the censure was not some method to banish someone from God's light, such as it was, forever, or solely to punish them. Instead, it was meant to be some kind of corrective measure, always with some kind of way back to communion with the Church outlined, whether it be a literal handwritten letter of your submission to the Church with a years-long probation or simply just a small talk with your local pastor.
For some reason, that wasn't an option for me, and I had a sinking feeling why.
It was pretty much without a doubt that I had incurred excommunication latae sententiae, in that I well and truly believed that God was dead. That could be nothing else but outright heresy, albeit stopping short of apostasy as I still believed in God, for whatever it was worth. But genuinely believing such a thing meant that by the law, I was automatically excommunicated. It was what it was. Considering that Xenovia had gotten kicked out of the Church for such knowledge in canon, the consequences were obvious. What wasn't obvious was how I was automatically detected, and what how genuine and obstinate belief was determined, considering I hadn't even talked to anyone about it. She had mentioned it to her superiors in my admittedly scattered memory, but there was no noting that simply hearing about it was sufficient to cause banishment. But considering I had half-read the novels about two decades ago, who knew what I remembered and did not at this point? Certainly not I.
Circular speculation this may have been, but if I wanted to ever step foot in a holy place without potentially causing issues again, I had to determine what exactly the process they had undergone to banish me within a day of learning about God's death, because there was no actual path of reconciliation given. Xenovia and Asia weren't offered a path back in, because no matter how sorry Heaven felt, they were still Devils, and there was just not a realistic path for that to occur. But as a human, there should have at least been some route to return, or at least some explanation. But I had just… received radio silence beyond the initial message that I was excommunicated, and even more worrisomely, no longer welcome in cathedrals or the like. I was fairly sure I still had Sunday obligation, but at this point, I wasn't sure if I was even allowed to step in a church at all.
The uncalled number made my cell phone weigh even heavier in my pockets as I began nearing my apartment. But at this point, what could I do? With how opaque the Church was, I couldn't be certain that me communicating with them wouldn't result in consequences for them either, and that was where I drew the line. I couldn't risk anything happening to them and my juniors in the orphanage. If I thought that my scholarship for Sophia being cut off was disastrous, losing Church funding would be an utter catastrophe. Despite having memories and knowledge from another world about the one I lived in right now, all I knew was little and less.
I sighed, as I reached my apartment, pushing up the window before closing it behind me as I crawled inside. There was nothing I could do about it right this moment, so I simply just had to focus on now, with my future so uncertain. And that now involved a shower before changing into work clothes for Sakamoto-san's restaurant.
It wouldn't do to have the taste of slaughter on food meant for customers, after all.
Work had thankfully been uneventful, despite the steady influx of newer customers. It had seemed that Nishina-san had been spreading the word of Sakamoto-san's food to others, and if not her, someone had been. It didn't quite take superhuman levels of effort to handle the dinner rush, but I had felt it was pretty darn close. It seemed petty to use Battle Aura to give myself ankle and arch support, but I dared anyone to find someone who worked on their feet to that mundane use of power. Most importantly to me, though, and one of the main reasons why I still worked here, was that family meal portions for me had remained at the mind-boggling size that Sakamoto-san had provided me about a month ago. Well, it was likely being paid for by the increased business, but every time he gave me a platter, I remained surprised, and every time I ate, I remained incredibly grateful. It was probably the single reason I hadn't bitten the bullet to find a new apartment with an actual kitchen and storage space, despite all the troubles I had with keeping my current one. Although scrambling to find another guarantor after the scholarship had dropped me was already nightmarish, having to do further real estate hunting while trying to keep Tokyo safe from its own resentment would have been absolutely mindbending. At least managing to pull together for a security deposit and "key money" was no longer an issue, but everything else…
I didn't really have time for that.
Which was a bit of an ironic statement, considering what I was doing right now. As I glanced around at the glittering Tokyo nightscape, I couldn't help but think that I might have made quite the sight, a figure in a baggy hoodie bouncing around the rooftops, holding leftovers with both hands to make sure they didn't spill out, despite being wrapped in a plastic bag. Shinjuku itself was quite the sight too — despite most people probably heading to bed at the moment, the ward itself was well and alive. The Metropolitan Government Building had some flashy advertisement or another projected on its twin towers, Kabukicho was lit up to the gills with neon lights, and the streams of cars still traversing the streets formed a river of light through the streets.
A few weeks ago, I would have also been down there, riding a bike, trying to get home. But that was then, and now was now, and so despite my enhanced speed, I wasn't anywhere close to my home relative to where I had started. The reason for that was because I was doing the age-old, timeworn tradition of patrolling my neighborhood as definitely-not-a-vigilante. My "neighborhood" being a significant portion of Shinjuku-ku probably stretched the definition of the term, but it was what it was. If Spider-Man could be a friendly neighborhood vigilante despite patrolling the entirety of New York and then some, I figured I was in the clear.
One might ask why I was doing this, as I had already spent a significant portion of my day fighting hundreds of feet underground. I didn't really have a straight answer for it. Perhaps part of it was simply that this was my neighborhood, and given my capabilities, it was just like checking the locks of my home before going to bed. Another part of it could have been guilt — I may have been fighting beneath the surface, but it was entirely possible that until we finished clearing them out, the streets would be less safe as the evil spirits had nowhere left to go. And maybe, just maybe, the memory of the night when I learned the world was far more vast than I could imagine lingered in the back of my mind.
Whatever the reason was, I tended to make a few big loops and criss-crosses across the city's skyline with my Battle Aura carefully controlled in order to keep my presence from alerting any of those who I was looking for or possibly those who were looking for me. With my scarily overtuned eyes, ears, and nose, a good throwing arm, and whatever various tiny projectiles I could obtain, I could forcibly exorcise almost any ghost effortlessly while still being able to keep a modicum of privacy. I realized that the entire concept of "privacy" would probably be compromised and a laughingstock in about ten to fifteen years, but once again, that was then and now was now. I wasn't quite willing to give away all my personal information then or now, especially given the fact I was fairly sure that which is also why I was wearing a medical mask to further conceal my face on top of the concealing clothing I put on. Temperature wasn't such a huge concern for me after I figured out the trick that some North God practitioners had figured out in the more extreme climates of their world.
To my surprise, I hadn't observed any malicious spirits floating around today. Although there had been a concerted effort to keep the streets safe, it hadn't been so effective to be able to totally eliminate spirits in a place as well-patrolled as Chiyoda-ku, much less the ward that had Kabukicho within it. No news was good news, but I knew things were never this good in Tokyo, so I hopped up to a higher vantage point and scanned the surrounding area. Everything seemed normal, so I concentrated my Battle Aura to enhance my senses. First, my vision, but my eyes observed nothing, and so I closed my eyes. Second, my audition, but my ears heard nothing, and so I closed off my ears. Finally, my olfaction, and there I sensed — smelled — something, buried under a thousand other traces of existence.
The scent of blood.
Combat concealment barriers tended to focus on preventing humans from being able to come across them, and thus they focused on the two main methods of humans being able to discover something that they shouldn't have — seeing something, and hearing something. Smell was a much less relevant sense to obscure, especially in a city like Tokyo. As clean as the city kept itself with an army of municipal workers, a tiny trace of smell would be so overwhelmed by the existence of over twelve million humans to be indiscernible from the rest of humanity. From the aroma of food to the stink of car exhaust, the air in Tokyo was so saturated with other scents that most concealment meant to be efficiently and quickly applied tended to just take care of sight and hearing.
Unfortunately, so much blood had been spilt in the alleyway I now observed that the smell of iron in the air was so thick that despite the general privacy barrier that had been put up, now that I had been actively looking for it, I couldn't miss it. "It" being the source of the scent, crimson vitae drying to a muddy brown splashed all across the alleyway, torn-off limbs painting the walls. "It" being the source of the lifeblood: a number of warriors, exorcists, wearing the frocks of priests and the habits of nuns strewn across the allewyway, only one still conscious enough to continue silently firing their light pistol. "It" being the source of this scene entire — a hulking, humanoid figure, that despite the constant flashes of light illuminating it, seemed to appear to be living shadow. Its silhouette was flickering, constantly shifting in the evening gloom, but the shadow of what it held in its hand was unmistakable — a blade.
I squinted my eyes, focusing my Battle Aura into it once more, to try to make it out and determine what, exactly, had taken apart a squad of exorcists like so much garbage, and after a moment that felt like an eternity, my mind responded.
One part of my brain, the one that had been fighting beneath the streets of Tokyo for a month, whispered yōkai, yūrei, onryō. A being so wronged in life it had returned to life out of sheer rage, cravenge vengeance to redress the wounds it had suffered
Another part of of my brain, however, churned out a different answer. It was a primal part of my brain, forged from a millennia of natural selection in a world where humanity had not ever been the apex predator nor master of the world, for there had been three others. The ape-like construct within my brain, my soul, spat out something I had never seen but had always known I would encounter. Not a monster nor a ghost, but something far worse, for within the core of twisted madness lay a spark of intelligence — a demon, a fiend, a devil.
Both were not quite wrong. Both were not fully correct.
In the end, it didn't matter. If it got out of here, it would be a disaster and so in the instant it launched itself at its last remaining, I gathered around me as much Battle Aura as possible that leaping wouldn't damage the building and launched a horse's kick at its faceless head.
Things wouldn't end that conveniently, of course. As soon as my boot made contact, I realized how the creature was still alive. The secondary flurry of kicks that it somehow absorbed without immediately dying confirmed it. As I pushed myself off, the barely conscious exorcist just behind me, I contemplated how much more annoying this fight would be if I didn't figure something out.
From my memory, a single wound made by Light would be enough to cripple a weaker devil, and considering that most of the exorcists here were still breathing, although probably not for long, it was most definitely a weaker devil. A single shot or cut would damage the devil's existence, sap its powers, and bring it to its knees — it was one of the main ways that the Church could contend with the creatures of the night with mere men and women, instead of heroes. And yet, despite undoubtedly being shot at dozens of times, it was still alive.
The answer was simple: it just hadn't been hit. Somehow, someway, it had been able to gather and compress enough spirits around itself that they served as ablative armor. Although still weak to the Light, they weren't as inherently vulnerable to it as God had forced Lucifer's children to be — they could take a few cuts from a Light Sword or shots from a Light Gun. Or with enough in the way, forged into armor, a couple of steel-shattering strikes.
I breathed out an irritated sigh. What a pain in the ass.
The ghost-armored Stray Devil, for what else could it be, closed the distance, sword held high. I met its charge in kind, ducking underneath its strike and launched a flurry of praying mantis jabs into its gut, launching it back a few meters. Unfortunately, it didn't have the grace to die then and there. Fortunately, however, my choice to lean on precision over strength paid off — it hadn't died so quickly that I accidentally blew up the street from the force of my blows.
That was the annoying thing about this devil's gimmick. I had a pretty good handle on my strength and could pull back a strike pretty quickly, but if I struck it and its last piece of armor broke, the force of my strike could transfer through its body. The street would probably remain intact, but with as many wounded humans as there were in the alleyway, I didn't want to risk anything happening. But the exorcists bleeding out put a timer on the fight — while I could typically carefully pick apart my opponent's armor piece by piece, the limited time remaining on the exorcist's lives meant that I would eventually be forced to risk trying for a few decisive strikes if I wanted to keep them from dying. It wasn't a meaningful threat to me, but that didn't mean that it wasn't capable of making me still lose.
There was something to that thought, but I shelved it as my mind flickered through the options before me before something laying on the ground behind the recovering creature caught my eye.
Hm. If I was going to be forced to gamble, better try the option that didn't risk blowing up the street first.
Shooting forward before the devil could advance again, I snapped a kick where its legs met, launching it up into the air properly. Kicking off the ground, I juggled it forward in the air, pushing it beyond my objective: a hilt without a blade. With a downward angled strike, I sent it skidding a little further away from me, and more importantly, away from the wounded. Picking up the Light Sword, I looked for how to activate it. Turning the hilt over in my hand, looking for some kind of button to press, I heard a hoarse whisper behind me.
"T-twist the p-pommel."
Turning around, I saw it was the exorcist that had been firing at the Stray Devil earlier, although they had stopped as soon as I had engaged. Part of it was almost certainly trying not to inflict friendly fire, but despite their iron grip they had on their firearm, the limpness of their arm told me that I had a limited amount of time left. With a curt nod, I followed their instructions, and a blade of Light grew out of the hilt.
Waving it experimentally, I suppressed the faint feeling of disappointment that it didn't hum like a lightsaber before feeding my Battle Aura into the blade to reinforce it—
On the first day of Creation, God said:
"Let there be Light."
And so it was, separating the Day from the Night.
Seeing it illuminate Creation, He saw that it was good. And so He was pleased.
Many other days passed, as God created other places, plants, creatures, and people.
The Light illuminated all, providing warmth, comfort, healing.
Until the Original Sin was committed, and wroth, God wrought the Light in such a fashion that it could bless and smite in the same breath, to punish those that had deceived His most beloved creations.
As His mind settled, He saw what He had fashioned from what He had made, and found it necessary.
And yet, He found that he was not pleased.
—altering the sword and being altered in turn. The blade grew brighter and brighter and brighter, feeding off the magical power generated within the depths of my soul — not quite Light, but had been changed in a fashion to be something somewhat similar to it. And so despite it looking like it would explode and despite not being able to investigate what had truly happened, I knew instinctively that so long as I empowered the Light Sword, it would, could never hurt me.
I looked up and away from the mystery within my hand, and saw the Devil standing up, waiting for me. As I began approaching it, it raised its sword in a salute, before settling into a stance. I paused. It hadn't run away, which meant that despite its madness and hunger for the flesh and soul of man, despite the fact that it had never meaningfully been able to threaten me, it had decided to die on its feet. Deciding that I could give it that much courtesy, I raised my borrowed blade before grasping it steadily with both hands.
Two warriors charged.
One walked away.
Cutting off the flow of power to the Light Sword, the blade's glow returned back to normal. it looked like I hadn't permanently altered it, thank goodness. With a twist of the pommel, I deactivated the weapon before running back to the Exorcist. Seeing their eyes closed and head now limp, I cursed, dropping the hilt of the sword to check their pulse. Faint, but still there. Pursing my lips, I channeled my Battle Aura into them. In response, my energy dropped slightly yet significantly, but in exchange their breathing eased noticeably.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I supposed, and pushed even more of my power into them. First a trickle, then a stream, and then a rushing river, before their wounds healed and their face regained a healthy flush. Once I was done, I ran across the alleyway, healing the other wounded, reattaching limbs best I could, before gathering them into one place. I felt my Battle Aura significantly depleted in a way that I hadn't before, but I couldn't help but feel… good. There was something about the feeling of directly dragging someone back from the brink of death that was unlike anything else, and I hadn't felt it since my previous lifetime.
Good feelings or not, however, I was left with a bit of a dilemma. Although I healed them, I couldn't exactly leave them in an alleyway, for someone or something to discover them. I wasn't sure if I wanted to call Nishina-san about this either, given that the shrine and the Church didn't exactly have open communication — evidently so, considering I probably would've been informed about an operation this close to my residence otherwise. And unfortunately, any church I could probably dump the exorcists off at would probably be one I shouldn't approach thanks to being excommunicated.
Which left me one last option.
Offering a mental apology, I patted down the exorcists until I found what I was searching for: an intact cell phone. Flipping it open, I went to the contacts. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately for the exorcist I had filched it from, the list was rather sparse, so I looked through it quickly.
Fr. Kiyotora
Good enough.
As my thumb hovered over the call button, an epiphany struck me. As someone excommunicated, it could make things pretty awkward for everyone involved if I was recognized as the person who helped this exorcist squad. And given that I had pulled them from the brink of death, they would be very interested in determining my identity — healing was an extremely sought after resource in DxD, best I could recall. But just like how the Stray Devil had avoided being damaged by Light Bullets, that problem wouldn't be a bother if it never happened in the first place. I had been fully dressed in clothes that didn't reveal the shape of my body beyond the vaguest sense, a surgical mask had still covered any portion of my face that would have been recognizable, and I hadn't spoken a single word to anyone in the entire encounter.
It would be a little embarrassing, but it wouldn't do to fumble at the finish line. I pressed down on the call button.
One ring. Two ring. Three rings—
"Kiyotora speaking," a firm, professional voice answered curtly. "Report."
Calling upon certain… techniques taught by a certain school of the North God Style that focused upon infiltration and surprise attacks, I shifted my larynx and adjusted the placement of my tongue in order to shrink my pharyngeal space in order to speak in a voice that absolutely no one would be able to connect with me.
"Hi Kiyotora-san~☆!" I sang out in my best sparkly Harajuku-style gyaru cadence. "An evil monster was being totes annoying, but I went and kicked its butt~☆!"
"What? Who is this?"
"Sorry, I can't stay for long, I think my sensei is calling me~☆," I pushed forward heedlessly. My voice was probably going to be sore if I kept it like this too long, so time was of the essence. "But you can find your friends at—"
Needless to say, as soon as I was finished, I fucking booked it. There was absolutely no way I was sticking around after that. My job here was over, and like any self-respecting young adult, there was no way in Hell that I was going to volunteer for unpaid overtime.
Ordinarily, I'd be pretty appreciative of the opportunity of being where I was. The Metropolitan Area Outer Underground Discharge Channel, also known as the "G-Cans" after the initiative that popularized the area surrounding it for regional development, was frankly a hidden wonder of the world. The largest underground floodwater diversion facility in the world, it had begun construction more than a decade ago and had recently been completed a year or two ago, thanks to the ever-increasing risk of flooding that Tokyo suffered thanks to the Tone River.
Mitigating the risks of monsoon season had been the work of literal centuries, beginning during the Tokugawa Shogunate back in the late 16th century, but the situation had become untenable after Typhoon Mireilles in 1991, the worst storm that had struck Japan in my lifetime, which had flooded over a hundred square kilometers in the northern suburbs of Tokyo. Faced with no other option, as Tokyo had minimal space aboveground to handle the floodwaters, engineers set about building the "world's biggest drain." Five concrete silos sixty-five meters tall, seventy-eight thirteen thousand horsepower pumps that could pump two hundred metric tons into the Edo River per second, and 6.4 kilometers of tunnels fifty meters beneath the city that interconnected it all. While the "Underground Temple" was open to the public whenever it wasn't the typhoon season of June to November, I had been granted the privilege of entering the many, many restricted-access areas.
Unfortunately, that was because it wasn't much of a privilege, as I wasn't here as a tourist. No, I was here in my capacity as Tokyo's newest (supernatural) pest control technician. With all the ambient negativity in the city and the widespread increase of people with minimal to no safety net, all sorts of things had started to go bump in the night. Various malicious youkai that wanted to get out of the southwest or just the countryside in general, whatever the Three Factions had brought along with them to Tokyo like Stray Devils or escaped experiments from the Grigori, and finally the restless dead. I had encountered literal funayūrei down here over the weeks I had ventured down here, which was baffling. Weren't they supposed to be out at sea, or at least at lakes and rivers? There were no boats here for them to sink, but they did their level best to drown me anyways.
Aside from the waterborne ghosts content to ruin my life, all of these creatures had to find places to reside, both in terms of finding sustenance and also to not immediately get destroyed by the various patrols of the more proactive supernatural community. There were minimal places for them to exist on the surface that were near accessible hunting grounds, as abandoned properties rarely remained abandoned or property for long, but all that meant was that they just had to get underground. Immaterial beings could slip through the walls, shapeshifting creatures could squeeze through the cracks, and those who couldn't do either made do with access tunnels or storm drains. With a nice damp dark residence away from the sun and the ability to pop out at night to snag a civilian when you're hungry, many an entity had made themselves quite comfortable down here so long as they could handle the inevitable flooding. Some could be negotiated with, which shrine members often took care of. The rest…
The rest, they left for me.
Fighting in a place like Tokyo was an exercise in restraint. Heavily urbanized, with massive amounts of potential collateral damage if I didn't control my strength, I had to constantly check some of my own instincts. I couldn't fling projectiles coated with my Battle Aura casually or else they would go through multiple walls, slamming opponents against surfaces could cause genuine infrastructural damage, and if I really went all out and struck something I could erase city blocks.
This went double for when I was underground, surrounded by valuable infrastructure. I doubted I could cause a genuine geologic event even with how earthquake-prone Japan was unless I lost my mind, but disrupting infrastructure or causing sinkholes was a genuine concern. Everything around me could be important in some way, and it was entirely possible with all the unsanctioned alterations that had been done by the entities inhabiting the tunnels, any further damage could become catastrophic.
Thankfully, while North God Style could scrap with the best of them, a significant number of branches had specialized into how I was fighting right now: with economy of motion, as little noise as possible, and a minimum of strikes. An assassin, in other words. I was even dressed the part to some degree, although unintentionally so, as I was wearing a poncho, the clothing loose enough to not tear if I needed to move at any real speed and sufficiently waterproof to keep any dripping fluids off me.
Despite the smells, the dank feeling that wouldn't disappear until I cleaned myself at home, and the unfriendly faces, it wasn't all bad down here. In fact, I had many teachers, even if they couldn't precisely talk. The rats had taught me a survivor's footwork with strong unpredictability and a surprisingly respectable short-range strike. The snakes and cats that hunted them down here taught me how to coil my body properly for strikes and a quiet grace to not be noticed until it was too late. Most interesting of all were the innumerable number of insects, and from them I had learned precision and not just how to move quickly, but react swiftly too. The insights on evasion and survival I had learned from the common fly were frankly terrifying.
And as a good student, I made sure to practice regularly. After all, there were so many friendly combatants down here that I could exchange pointers with. For example, the host of spirits that were helpfully offering themselves for my education in front of me.
In a more typical battlefield, I would be concerned about whether more ghosts and other such creatures would spawn behind me, and to be frank, it wasn't entirely impossible. But in order for that to happen, it would have to be able to coalesce and travel through the dozens to hundreds of ofuda that I applied to the walls of the tunnels as I traversed deeper and deeper into the network, at a distance of about of one every five meters, one on each side, the ceiling, and the floor.
Ordinarily, such applications would not be necessary, especially as it would be entirely likely that quite a few would be washed away in the rainy season, but the times were what they were in Tokyo, and ensuring that fewer ghosts and gribblies crept up through our feet for a few months before the monsoons came was critical, especially as I had begun mapping out further unsanctioned additions to the network. Nevertheless, the ofuda were made to last, so while a significant amount would be torn away by the rushing waters of the upcoming storms, many more would remain, and so only fixes would have to be applied. Perhaps even more importantly, it wouldn't require me to be the one to apply them either, the only free High-Class combatant available to the shrines at the moment.
Such a network would naturally have a profound aura of sacred energy, which in a typical case would repel the malicious youkai to come return when circumstances were better. However, I had a counter-strategy of releasing a minute amount of my tightly-controlled Battle Aura as bait, the magical power wafting off incredibly tempting to the beasts hiding within the shadows. While even that much would act as a repellent to an individual creature, the steady purification of the tunnels had herded them together into groups, and in groups, even cowards could find courage. And so here they were, coalescing and grouped in front of me, ready to be sent off to their true afterlife, whatever it was.
"M-m-my h-h-homework!!"
"I c-c-c-an't be late for w-w-w-ork…"
"Where a-a-am I? W-w-where is my family?!"
And as the howling host advanced upon me, I cleared my mind and advanced upon them in turn.
With a brutal crunch, I reached out to the first pair that set itself upon me and crushed ectoplasmic skulls with clawed fingers. Throwing their fading remains in front of me to gain further space, I flattened my hands and decapitated twice-dead corpses with bladelike neck chops. Grabbing more ghostly heads as grips, I yanked myself forward, my reinforced elbows blowing a hole through those attempting to sneak up behind me and my knee blowing a path through the group, although it immediately refilled. When groups of spirits piled on me time and time again, herded by the other, more powerful yōkai , an efficient, wound-up strike could blow them all away, their bodies likely acting as a cushion enough to not ensure any collateral damage, but I found that I did not desire nor need to risk such a thing on a day to day basis. And so I remained in the muck, reinforcing my points of contact as I waded through the morass.
The only real potential issue was for the more immaterial creatures attempting to escape through the walls, but all that really required was a good eye and a swift limb. Creatures of obsession they tended to be, they never truly ran far away. Once again, they craved more than anything else a good meal, and that for them was a strong, healthy soul. Accordingly, my soul had now brightened enough for even a thousand feasts for them, and so they would inevitably return like a two-bit horror movie villain. I had lost count of how many had tried to float out of the shadow beneath my feet that I would simply just kick the head off.
Now fully baited with a taste of my Battle Aura, traces of the energy wafting through the crowd, the spirits advanced without reserve. The swarm screeched, wailed, and chittered as they crawled towards me, crawling over each other just to get to me a little bit quicker, funneling themselves into my waiting fists. This time, I waited for them properly, keeping my feet firmly on the ground as my hands began flickering through the air, firing off tight, controlled bursts, ensuring that I delivered the maximum amount of force with minimal wasted follow-through. Striking, not pushing, was the mantra I kept in my head as I bobbed and weaved through the morass. Creatures like these couldn't even meaningfully scratch me, weak as they were, and dodging wasn't truly necessary. In the end, however, every fight I was in was a place to learn, and it wouldn't do to pick up bad habits when I didn't have to. I was probably picking up a few fighting creatures this weak, but it was what it was.
The "fight" itself most likely didn't last more than a minute, or even half of one, but it still felt like an eternity had passed before the last pile of ectoplasm had finally been laid to rest. Trails of smoke faintly wafted off the floor, walls, and my clothes and fists, the remains of the hungry ghosts fading away into wherever their souls hopefully should have gone in the first place. Given the circumstances a lot of them undoubtedly had died in, it was unlikely any large number of them would be worshipped as a kami-sama by any of their family members, but hopefully they would reincarnate into a better life.
Hopefully they would have better luck than I had.
That fight turned out to be the most eventful part of the patrol for me. All I had to do afterward was keep on applying the ofuda I had been supplied, and with that section completed, we only really truly had the bowels of the stormwater and drainage system left before it was cleaned out. Naturally, that also left the rest of the sixteen kilometer-long wastewater system that the G-Cans system was thankfully not connected to to try and clean up, but that would be a whole different beast. As dirty as stormwater could be, it was pretty reasonable to walk through these tunnels. In contrast, it would be much less pleasant to wade through places where sewage traversed. As well-engineered as the Tokyo sewage system undoubtedly was, it certainly wasn't designed to be traversed on foot by the general public.
Hazards like toxic gases could still accumulate, and random flooding could still occur in truly unpredictable fashions, in comparison to the "if it wasn't raining, you'll probably be fine" of the stormwater drainage. While I was tough enough to manage any physical damage, I certainly wasn't capable of holding my breath long enough for patrols to remove the risk of poisonous inhalations, undoubtedly enhanced by any of the unwelcome guests down there as well, and my colleagues probably weren't any better equipped. We'd have to get purification talismans for both the body and the environment bare minimum, as well as updated maps. The G-Cans system had been completed fairly recently so the tunnels were well-mapped, but the beginnings of the wastewater piping traced back to the Kanda system back in Meiji-era Japan, well over a century ago. Plenty of unauthorized additions would have been made, so navigation talismans or just plain old navigation or mapping software would probably be needed as well.
Well, it wasn't something that I would have to decide in the first place. As much respect as I had obtained working with Nishina-san and the other shrines in the past month, power did not necessarily correspond with strategic and logistical capability, so it was rather thoroughly over my head. It wasn't impossible for me to get on that level, but that kind of input required trust and showing of capability that probably would take more than a month to acquire, and frankly, I wasn't sure if I wanted to so thoroughly attach myself to any particular organization at the moment. Not after getting so unceremoniously removed from one that had raised me for my entire second life.
I sighed, thoughts flickering through my head as I walked out of one of the side entrances to the facility, the noontime sun warming my face. It was a rather pretty day, and despite this being a municipal water infrastructure plant, there was a surprisingly large amount of people moving about here, undoubtedly part of the community initiative that had popularized the "G-CANS" nickname in the first place. Walking through them to a side alley I could quickly scale, despite the hustle, bustle, and liveliness of the people, I couldn't help but only feel like the stakes for doing everything perfectly were never higher.
One usually thought that fighting monsters would have to be by moonlight, hidden from the eyes of the public, but being in the depths of Tokyo's subterranean maze was disguise enough. The light of the sun banished much of the man-eating population back down to where we wanted them, and they were supposedly weaker as well due to their nocturnal preferences. Things were probably going to get trickier now that we had coated so many of the tunnels, as it was entirely possible that by having the network incompletely sealed, we had left enough of an opening that we were driving the spirits up and out into other areas while agitated. However, that was a risk that the senior priests and priestesses had apparently accounted for, with additional manpower assigned to the evening patrols in the last few days. Apparently some personnel had been pulled from shrines outside of Tokyo, some of which may have even been from the Ise Grand Shrine. If that was the case, I hadn't heard anything official, but scuttlebutt had a way of outpacing even the speed of light.
Pulling out yet another talisman, this time I applied it on myself. It was one of Nishina-san's shrine's more specialized ofuda, one dedicated to stealth and misdirection. It wouldn't do for me to be seen leaping from rooftop to rooftop, and given the distance from the G-Cans facility in Saitama to my apartment in Shinjuku was about thirty kilometers, although going by foot would be quicker than public transport, going unconcealed was too much of a risk. Concealment applied, I began my journey home with a quick flicker up to the rooftops.
Unfortunately, that left me to my thoughts on why I was doing effectively mercenary work for Shinto priests — my censure from the Catholic Church.
No longer being in good standing with the Church meant my academic career at Sophia was effectively over, and with that my scholarship, and with that my housing stipend. If I didn't have the ability to punch ghosts, I would've been in real steep trouble, for there was only so many hours Sakamoto-san could offer me. All of this was compounded by the fact that I was being censured by the Church in a way I didn't even know existed.
The joke about being Catholic was that you could become an apostate, be an obstinate and unrepentant heretic, or even convert and join a terrorist organization of another religion, and all you would be was a very bad Catholic. It was taught that once you were baptized, you were indelibly marked on your soul as a Catholic forever, and considering how this world was, I couldn't discount this at all. And so, excommunication wasn't supposed to remove you from the Church either.
Excommunication, from what I had researched and learned in both of my lives was a supposed to be "medicinal," rather than an "expiatory" or "vindictive" penalty. What that meant was that the censure was not some method to banish someone from God's light, such as it was, forever, or solely to punish them. Instead, it was meant to be some kind of corrective measure, always with some kind of way back to communion with the Church outlined, whether it be a literal handwritten letter of your submission to the Church with a years-long probation or simply just a small talk with your local pastor.
For some reason, that wasn't an option for me, and I had a sinking feeling why.
It was pretty much without a doubt that I had incurred excommunication latae sententiae, in that I well and truly believed that God was dead. That could be nothing else but outright heresy, albeit stopping short of apostasy as I still believed in God, for whatever it was worth. But genuinely believing such a thing meant that by the law, I was automatically excommunicated. It was what it was. Considering that Xenovia had gotten kicked out of the Church for such knowledge in canon, the consequences were obvious. What wasn't obvious was how I was automatically detected, and what how genuine and obstinate belief was determined, considering I hadn't even talked to anyone about it. She had mentioned it to her superiors in my admittedly scattered memory, but there was no noting that simply hearing about it was sufficient to cause banishment. But considering I had half-read the novels about two decades ago, who knew what I remembered and did not at this point? Certainly not I.
Circular speculation this may have been, but if I wanted to ever step foot in a holy place without potentially causing issues again, I had to determine what exactly the process they had undergone to banish me within a day of learning about God's death, because there was no actual path of reconciliation given. Xenovia and Asia weren't offered a path back in, because no matter how sorry Heaven felt, they were still Devils, and there was just not a realistic path for that to occur. But as a human, there should have at least been some route to return, or at least some explanation. But I had just… received radio silence beyond the initial message that I was excommunicated, and even more worrisomely, no longer welcome in cathedrals or the like. I was fairly sure I still had Sunday obligation, but at this point, I wasn't sure if I was even allowed to step in a church at all.
The uncalled number made my cell phone weigh even heavier in my pockets as I began nearing my apartment. But at this point, what could I do? With how opaque the Church was, I couldn't be certain that me communicating with them wouldn't result in consequences for them either, and that was where I drew the line. I couldn't risk anything happening to them and my juniors in the orphanage. If I thought that my scholarship for Sophia being cut off was disastrous, losing Church funding would be an utter catastrophe. Despite having memories and knowledge from another world about the one I lived in right now, all I knew was little and less.
I sighed, as I reached my apartment, pushing up the window before closing it behind me as I crawled inside. There was nothing I could do about it right this moment, so I simply just had to focus on now, with my future so uncertain. And that now involved a shower before changing into work clothes for Sakamoto-san's restaurant.
It wouldn't do to have the taste of slaughter on food meant for customers, after all.
Work had thankfully been uneventful, despite the steady influx of newer customers. It had seemed that Nishina-san had been spreading the word of Sakamoto-san's food to others, and if not her, someone had been. It didn't quite take superhuman levels of effort to handle the dinner rush, but I had felt it was pretty darn close. It seemed petty to use Battle Aura to give myself ankle and arch support, but I dared anyone to find someone who worked on their feet to that mundane use of power. Most importantly to me, though, and one of the main reasons why I still worked here, was that family meal portions for me had remained at the mind-boggling size that Sakamoto-san had provided me about a month ago. Well, it was likely being paid for by the increased business, but every time he gave me a platter, I remained surprised, and every time I ate, I remained incredibly grateful. It was probably the single reason I hadn't bitten the bullet to find a new apartment with an actual kitchen and storage space, despite all the troubles I had with keeping my current one. Although scrambling to find another guarantor after the scholarship had dropped me was already nightmarish, having to do further real estate hunting while trying to keep Tokyo safe from its own resentment would have been absolutely mindbending. At least managing to pull together for a security deposit and "key money" was no longer an issue, but everything else…
I didn't really have time for that.
Which was a bit of an ironic statement, considering what I was doing right now. As I glanced around at the glittering Tokyo nightscape, I couldn't help but think that I might have made quite the sight, a figure in a baggy hoodie bouncing around the rooftops, holding leftovers with both hands to make sure they didn't spill out, despite being wrapped in a plastic bag. Shinjuku itself was quite the sight too — despite most people probably heading to bed at the moment, the ward itself was well and alive. The Metropolitan Government Building had some flashy advertisement or another projected on its twin towers, Kabukicho was lit up to the gills with neon lights, and the streams of cars still traversing the streets formed a river of light through the streets.
A few weeks ago, I would have also been down there, riding a bike, trying to get home. But that was then, and now was now, and so despite my enhanced speed, I wasn't anywhere close to my home relative to where I had started. The reason for that was because I was doing the age-old, timeworn tradition of patrolling my neighborhood as definitely-not-a-vigilante. My "neighborhood" being a significant portion of Shinjuku-ku probably stretched the definition of the term, but it was what it was. If Spider-Man could be a friendly neighborhood vigilante despite patrolling the entirety of New York and then some, I figured I was in the clear.
One might ask why I was doing this, as I had already spent a significant portion of my day fighting hundreds of feet underground. I didn't really have a straight answer for it. Perhaps part of it was simply that this was my neighborhood, and given my capabilities, it was just like checking the locks of my home before going to bed. Another part of it could have been guilt — I may have been fighting beneath the surface, but it was entirely possible that until we finished clearing them out, the streets would be less safe as the evil spirits had nowhere left to go. And maybe, just maybe, the memory of the night when I learned the world was far more vast than I could imagine lingered in the back of my mind.
Whatever the reason was, I tended to make a few big loops and criss-crosses across the city's skyline with my Battle Aura carefully controlled in order to keep my presence from alerting any of those who I was looking for or possibly those who were looking for me. With my scarily overtuned eyes, ears, and nose, a good throwing arm, and whatever various tiny projectiles I could obtain, I could forcibly exorcise almost any ghost effortlessly while still being able to keep a modicum of privacy. I realized that the entire concept of "privacy" would probably be compromised and a laughingstock in about ten to fifteen years, but once again, that was then and now was now. I wasn't quite willing to give away all my personal information then or now, especially given the fact I was fairly sure that which is also why I was wearing a medical mask to further conceal my face on top of the concealing clothing I put on. Temperature wasn't such a huge concern for me after I figured out the trick that some North God practitioners had figured out in the more extreme climates of their world.
To my surprise, I hadn't observed any malicious spirits floating around today. Although there had been a concerted effort to keep the streets safe, it hadn't been so effective to be able to totally eliminate spirits in a place as well-patrolled as Chiyoda-ku, much less the ward that had Kabukicho within it. No news was good news, but I knew things were never this good in Tokyo, so I hopped up to a higher vantage point and scanned the surrounding area. Everything seemed normal, so I concentrated my Battle Aura to enhance my senses. First, my vision, but my eyes observed nothing, and so I closed my eyes. Second, my audition, but my ears heard nothing, and so I closed off my ears. Finally, my olfaction, and there I sensed — smelled — something, buried under a thousand other traces of existence.
The scent of blood.
Combat concealment barriers tended to focus on preventing humans from being able to come across them, and thus they focused on the two main methods of humans being able to discover something that they shouldn't have — seeing something, and hearing something. Smell was a much less relevant sense to obscure, especially in a city like Tokyo. As clean as the city kept itself with an army of municipal workers, a tiny trace of smell would be so overwhelmed by the existence of over twelve million humans to be indiscernible from the rest of humanity. From the aroma of food to the stink of car exhaust, the air in Tokyo was so saturated with other scents that most concealment meant to be efficiently and quickly applied tended to just take care of sight and hearing.
Unfortunately, so much blood had been spilt in the alleyway I now observed that the smell of iron in the air was so thick that despite the general privacy barrier that had been put up, now that I had been actively looking for it, I couldn't miss it. "It" being the source of the scent, crimson vitae drying to a muddy brown splashed all across the alleyway, torn-off limbs painting the walls. "It" being the source of the lifeblood: a number of warriors, exorcists, wearing the frocks of priests and the habits of nuns strewn across the allewyway, only one still conscious enough to continue silently firing their light pistol. "It" being the source of this scene entire — a hulking, humanoid figure, that despite the constant flashes of light illuminating it, seemed to appear to be living shadow. Its silhouette was flickering, constantly shifting in the evening gloom, but the shadow of what it held in its hand was unmistakable — a blade.
I squinted my eyes, focusing my Battle Aura into it once more, to try to make it out and determine what, exactly, had taken apart a squad of exorcists like so much garbage, and after a moment that felt like an eternity, my mind responded.
One part of my brain, the one that had been fighting beneath the streets of Tokyo for a month, whispered yōkai, yūrei, onryō. A being so wronged in life it had returned to life out of sheer rage, cravenge vengeance to redress the wounds it had suffered
Another part of of my brain, however, churned out a different answer. It was a primal part of my brain, forged from a millennia of natural selection in a world where humanity had not ever been the apex predator nor master of the world, for there had been three others. The ape-like construct within my brain, my soul, spat out something I had never seen but had always known I would encounter. Not a monster nor a ghost, but something far worse, for within the core of twisted madness lay a spark of intelligence — a demon, a fiend, a devil.
Both were not quite wrong. Both were not fully correct.
In the end, it didn't matter. If it got out of here, it would be a disaster and so in the instant it launched itself at its last remaining, I gathered around me as much Battle Aura as possible that leaping wouldn't damage the building and launched a horse's kick at its faceless head.
Things wouldn't end that conveniently, of course. As soon as my boot made contact, I realized how the creature was still alive. The secondary flurry of kicks that it somehow absorbed without immediately dying confirmed it. As I pushed myself off, the barely conscious exorcist just behind me, I contemplated how much more annoying this fight would be if I didn't figure something out.
From my memory, a single wound made by Light would be enough to cripple a weaker devil, and considering that most of the exorcists here were still breathing, although probably not for long, it was most definitely a weaker devil. A single shot or cut would damage the devil's existence, sap its powers, and bring it to its knees — it was one of the main ways that the Church could contend with the creatures of the night with mere men and women, instead of heroes. And yet, despite undoubtedly being shot at dozens of times, it was still alive.
The answer was simple: it just hadn't been hit. Somehow, someway, it had been able to gather and compress enough spirits around itself that they served as ablative armor. Although still weak to the Light, they weren't as inherently vulnerable to it as God had forced Lucifer's children to be — they could take a few cuts from a Light Sword or shots from a Light Gun. Or with enough in the way, forged into armor, a couple of steel-shattering strikes.
I breathed out an irritated sigh. What a pain in the ass.
The ghost-armored Stray Devil, for what else could it be, closed the distance, sword held high. I met its charge in kind, ducking underneath its strike and launched a flurry of praying mantis jabs into its gut, launching it back a few meters. Unfortunately, it didn't have the grace to die then and there. Fortunately, however, my choice to lean on precision over strength paid off — it hadn't died so quickly that I accidentally blew up the street from the force of my blows.
That was the annoying thing about this devil's gimmick. I had a pretty good handle on my strength and could pull back a strike pretty quickly, but if I struck it and its last piece of armor broke, the force of my strike could transfer through its body. The street would probably remain intact, but with as many wounded humans as there were in the alleyway, I didn't want to risk anything happening. But the exorcists bleeding out put a timer on the fight — while I could typically carefully pick apart my opponent's armor piece by piece, the limited time remaining on the exorcist's lives meant that I would eventually be forced to risk trying for a few decisive strikes if I wanted to keep them from dying. It wasn't a meaningful threat to me, but that didn't mean that it wasn't capable of making me still lose.
There was something to that thought, but I shelved it as my mind flickered through the options before me before something laying on the ground behind the recovering creature caught my eye.
Hm. If I was going to be forced to gamble, better try the option that didn't risk blowing up the street first.
Shooting forward before the devil could advance again, I snapped a kick where its legs met, launching it up into the air properly. Kicking off the ground, I juggled it forward in the air, pushing it beyond my objective: a hilt without a blade. With a downward angled strike, I sent it skidding a little further away from me, and more importantly, away from the wounded. Picking up the Light Sword, I looked for how to activate it. Turning the hilt over in my hand, looking for some kind of button to press, I heard a hoarse whisper behind me.
"T-twist the p-pommel."
Turning around, I saw it was the exorcist that had been firing at the Stray Devil earlier, although they had stopped as soon as I had engaged. Part of it was almost certainly trying not to inflict friendly fire, but despite their iron grip they had on their firearm, the limpness of their arm told me that I had a limited amount of time left. With a curt nod, I followed their instructions, and a blade of Light grew out of the hilt.
Waving it experimentally, I suppressed the faint feeling of disappointment that it didn't hum like a lightsaber before feeding my Battle Aura into the blade to reinforce it—
On the first day of Creation, God said:
"Let there be Light."
And so it was, separating the Day from the Night.
Seeing it illuminate Creation, He saw that it was good. And so He was pleased.
Many other days passed, as God created other places, plants, creatures, and people.
The Light illuminated all, providing warmth, comfort, healing.
Until the Original Sin was committed, and wroth, God wrought the Light in such a fashion that it could bless and smite in the same breath, to punish those that had deceived His most beloved creations.
As His mind settled, He saw what He had fashioned from what He had made, and found it necessary.
And yet, He found that he was not pleased.
—altering the sword and being altered in turn. The blade grew brighter and brighter and brighter, feeding off the magical power generated within the depths of my soul — not quite Light, but had been changed in a fashion to be something somewhat similar to it. And so despite it looking like it would explode and despite not being able to investigate what had truly happened, I knew instinctively that so long as I empowered the Light Sword, it would, could never hurt me.
I looked up and away from the mystery within my hand, and saw the Devil standing up, waiting for me. As I began approaching it, it raised its sword in a salute, before settling into a stance. I paused. It hadn't run away, which meant that despite its madness and hunger for the flesh and soul of man, despite the fact that it had never meaningfully been able to threaten me, it had decided to die on its feet. Deciding that I could give it that much courtesy, I raised my borrowed blade before grasping it steadily with both hands.
Two warriors charged.
One walked away.
Cutting off the flow of power to the Light Sword, the blade's glow returned back to normal. it looked like I hadn't permanently altered it, thank goodness. With a twist of the pommel, I deactivated the weapon before running back to the Exorcist. Seeing their eyes closed and head now limp, I cursed, dropping the hilt of the sword to check their pulse. Faint, but still there. Pursing my lips, I channeled my Battle Aura into them. In response, my energy dropped slightly yet significantly, but in exchange their breathing eased noticeably.
In for a penny, in for a pound, I supposed, and pushed even more of my power into them. First a trickle, then a stream, and then a rushing river, before their wounds healed and their face regained a healthy flush. Once I was done, I ran across the alleyway, healing the other wounded, reattaching limbs best I could, before gathering them into one place. I felt my Battle Aura significantly depleted in a way that I hadn't before, but I couldn't help but feel… good. There was something about the feeling of directly dragging someone back from the brink of death that was unlike anything else, and I hadn't felt it since my previous lifetime.
Good feelings or not, however, I was left with a bit of a dilemma. Although I healed them, I couldn't exactly leave them in an alleyway, for someone or something to discover them. I wasn't sure if I wanted to call Nishina-san about this either, given that the shrine and the Church didn't exactly have open communication — evidently so, considering I probably would've been informed about an operation this close to my residence otherwise. And unfortunately, any church I could probably dump the exorcists off at would probably be one I shouldn't approach thanks to being excommunicated.
Which left me one last option.
Offering a mental apology, I patted down the exorcists until I found what I was searching for: an intact cell phone. Flipping it open, I went to the contacts. Thankfully, or perhaps unfortunately for the exorcist I had filched it from, the list was rather sparse, so I looked through it quickly.
Fr. Kiyotora
Good enough.
As my thumb hovered over the call button, an epiphany struck me. As someone excommunicated, it could make things pretty awkward for everyone involved if I was recognized as the person who helped this exorcist squad. And given that I had pulled them from the brink of death, they would be very interested in determining my identity — healing was an extremely sought after resource in DxD, best I could recall. But just like how the Stray Devil had avoided being damaged by Light Bullets, that problem wouldn't be a bother if it never happened in the first place. I had been fully dressed in clothes that didn't reveal the shape of my body beyond the vaguest sense, a surgical mask had still covered any portion of my face that would have been recognizable, and I hadn't spoken a single word to anyone in the entire encounter.
It would be a little embarrassing, but it wouldn't do to fumble at the finish line. I pressed down on the call button.
One ring. Two ring. Three rings—
"Kiyotora speaking," a firm, professional voice answered curtly. "Report."
Calling upon certain… techniques taught by a certain school of the North God Style that focused upon infiltration and surprise attacks, I shifted my larynx and adjusted the placement of my tongue in order to shrink my pharyngeal space in order to speak in a voice that absolutely no one would be able to connect with me.
"Hi Kiyotora-san~☆!" I sang out in my best sparkly Harajuku-style gyaru cadence. "An evil monster was being totes annoying, but I went and kicked its butt~☆!"
"What? Who is this?"
"Sorry, I can't stay for long, I think my sensei is calling me~☆," I pushed forward heedlessly. My voice was probably going to be sore if I kept it like this too long, so time was of the essence. "But you can find your friends at—"
Needless to say, as soon as I was finished, I fucking booked it. There was absolutely no way I was sticking around after that. My job here was over, and like any self-respecting young adult, there was no way in Hell that I was going to volunteer for unpaid overtime.
Sorry for the relatively late chapter -- I've had a hell of a week and a half. If you have a not-totally-negative relationship with your grandparents, spend time with them when you can -- seeing my grandmother half-immobile with sores from reusing a fucking diaper was a nightmarish experience, and that was just the beginning. This chapter would've come yesterday if it wasn't for my power constantly cutting out, haha... that's part of why a lot of it's pretty scuffed. Apologies once again.
Enough of my venting though, you're opening up this author's note for rolls, so here they are:
Martial Arts Prodigy
400 CP
Garou is known for his unparalleled ability to learn and master any martial art in record time, and now, so are you. Your mind is a vast reservoir of fighting knowledge, allowing you to analyze and replicate martial techniques simply by observing them. You can take bits and pieces from various styles, seamlessly blending them together into your own unique and devastating approach. In combat, you are a tactical genius, able to exploit weaknesses in even the most seasoned fighter's techniques, and within minutes, you can develop strategies to counter any opponent. There is no technique you cannot master, no fighting style you cannot surpass.
Source: One Punch Man, Chapter: Talent
18000 Words, 250 => 350 CP, miss
Blessings and Curses
200 CP
Whether it occurs due to a cultivation method or some bizarre physique there are some unique energies that can be displayed. This perk modifies your energy into one of those special versions. Your energy in particular is now capable of being used to heal allies and corrode enemies. This provides two main benefits. First you will now always have a method to heal others no matter where you are. The energy cost will depend on the severity of the injury and how strong the individual is. Second, your enemies will no longer be able to steal your energy. Well they still can, but doing so will harm them. In fact if you forcefully pump your energy into someone you can cripple and kill them. The cost follows the same rules as healing someone.
Source: Gourmet Of Another World, Chapter: Source
20000 words, 350 => 450 => 250 CP, hit
Satsui no Hadou
600 CP
The complete opposite of the Power of Nothingness, Satsui no Hado is a form of Ki that is rooted in the darker aspects of the natural human instinct (including the desire to survive, trample, and impose over opposition), and on a metaphysical level, the natural occurrence and manifestation of loss, decline, and destruction. To tap into the Satsui no Hado, a person must be so consumed with the desire for winning and perfection, be close to being killed, or else possess such intense rage and hatred, that they are willing to kill. While not granting full control or mastery, purchasing this perk does allow you to draw upon the power of Satsui no Hado. Just like the Power of Nothingness, Satsui no Hado makes its users incredibly powerful, resistant to many forms of physical and spiritual damage and transforms them into a better fighter. In stark contrast to the Power of Nothingness, the users of Satsui no Hado also gain the ability to sense, and potentially influence, the emergence of the Satsui no Hado in others. Only people who push themselves to be the best at any cost can take full advantage of it, however, the untrained mind can be driven into insanity if they are not mentally ready for it. To become fully immersed in Satsui no Hado and master it is to lose one's humanity and compassion. As such, while both "Power of Nothingness" and "Satsui no Hadou" can be purchased, and potentially acquired through training in-jump, they can't be active at the same time due to direct conflict between them.
Source: Street Fighter, Chapter: Source
22000 Words, 250 => 350 CP, Miss
Kind of a shame to miss Martial Arts Prodigy, but rolling Blessings and Curses after being excommunicated is insanely funny, so I can't super complain. That'll have some pretty funny interactions soon (tm)
I finally got around to some proper fight scenes, which are like my first conventional ones like... ever? I definitely feel the scuff in them, especially since Haru's outgrown their starter zone rather thoroughly at the moment. Things will probably move away from Tokyo at least for a bit in a chapter or two, I'll just have to figure out how. Rolls will probably disrupt my plans as usual. Nevertheless, feedback / ideas appreciated.
I can't think of anything else to say, but that's probably because I've only got three hours of sleep. Responses tomorrow, probably. See y'all.
Enough of my venting though, you're opening up this author's note for rolls, so here they are:
400 CP
Garou is known for his unparalleled ability to learn and master any martial art in record time, and now, so are you. Your mind is a vast reservoir of fighting knowledge, allowing you to analyze and replicate martial techniques simply by observing them. You can take bits and pieces from various styles, seamlessly blending them together into your own unique and devastating approach. In combat, you are a tactical genius, able to exploit weaknesses in even the most seasoned fighter's techniques, and within minutes, you can develop strategies to counter any opponent. There is no technique you cannot master, no fighting style you cannot surpass.
Source: One Punch Man, Chapter: Talent
18000 Words, 250 => 350 CP, miss
Blessings and Curses
200 CP
Whether it occurs due to a cultivation method or some bizarre physique there are some unique energies that can be displayed. This perk modifies your energy into one of those special versions. Your energy in particular is now capable of being used to heal allies and corrode enemies. This provides two main benefits. First you will now always have a method to heal others no matter where you are. The energy cost will depend on the severity of the injury and how strong the individual is. Second, your enemies will no longer be able to steal your energy. Well they still can, but doing so will harm them. In fact if you forcefully pump your energy into someone you can cripple and kill them. The cost follows the same rules as healing someone.
Source: Gourmet Of Another World, Chapter: Source
20000 words, 350 => 450 => 250 CP, hit
600 CP
The complete opposite of the Power of Nothingness, Satsui no Hado is a form of Ki that is rooted in the darker aspects of the natural human instinct (including the desire to survive, trample, and impose over opposition), and on a metaphysical level, the natural occurrence and manifestation of loss, decline, and destruction. To tap into the Satsui no Hado, a person must be so consumed with the desire for winning and perfection, be close to being killed, or else possess such intense rage and hatred, that they are willing to kill. While not granting full control or mastery, purchasing this perk does allow you to draw upon the power of Satsui no Hado. Just like the Power of Nothingness, Satsui no Hado makes its users incredibly powerful, resistant to many forms of physical and spiritual damage and transforms them into a better fighter. In stark contrast to the Power of Nothingness, the users of Satsui no Hado also gain the ability to sense, and potentially influence, the emergence of the Satsui no Hado in others. Only people who push themselves to be the best at any cost can take full advantage of it, however, the untrained mind can be driven into insanity if they are not mentally ready for it. To become fully immersed in Satsui no Hado and master it is to lose one's humanity and compassion. As such, while both "Power of Nothingness" and "Satsui no Hadou" can be purchased, and potentially acquired through training in-jump, they can't be active at the same time due to direct conflict between them.
Source: Street Fighter, Chapter: Source
22000 Words, 250 => 350 CP, Miss
Kind of a shame to miss Martial Arts Prodigy, but rolling Blessings and Curses after being excommunicated is insanely funny, so I can't super complain. That'll have some pretty funny interactions soon (tm)
I finally got around to some proper fight scenes, which are like my first conventional ones like... ever? I definitely feel the scuff in them, especially since Haru's outgrown their starter zone rather thoroughly at the moment. Things will probably move away from Tokyo at least for a bit in a chapter or two, I'll just have to figure out how. Rolls will probably disrupt my plans as usual. Nevertheless, feedback / ideas appreciated.
I can't think of anything else to say, but that's probably because I've only got three hours of sleep. Responses tomorrow, probably. See y'all.
RookDeSuit
Versed in the lewd.
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How flamboyant! He is surely not creating a massive misunderstanding speaking like that to the exorcists.
ObsidianNoir
Making the rounds.
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That gyaru persona will meet Issei one day and he will swear eternal vengeance for a dude acting like a hot gyaru and tricking him.
But yeah, excommunication into sewer hunting is a rough transition. At least he got plenty of "teachers" down here to advance his Random Bullshit Go style. Vermin he may be in the eyes of the supernatural but even vermin can bite their ankles.
But yeah, excommunication into sewer hunting is a rough transition. At least he got plenty of "teachers" down here to advance his Random Bullshit Go style. Vermin he may be in the eyes of the supernatural but even vermin can bite their ankles.
WolfHairJump
Zero to hero
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Great chapter! Really enjoying the story. Feels like he's making really good use of his rolls, even if he's only got the knowledge from vibes and a brief infodump of some sort.
Mavrak
Not too sore, are you?
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I wonder if Michael or Gabriel or any of the other archangels would receive prayers if they were addressed directly to them? If so I wonder how they would react if they were addressed as Michael the Deceiver, or Michael the Betrayor etc? With the way he's lying to everyone about God not being dead and excommunicating anyone who finds out that's gotta be an offence worth falling for, so I wonder how he would react if he received a prayer questioning that?
6NuttBuster9
Know what you're doing yet?
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emberwing
Not too sore, are you?
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the start of this chapter read a bit like a schizoid dairy, I genuinely thought you'd accidentally posted the next chapter by accident and him essentially just ignoring his academic and financial problem feels really odd even if it can make sense with the idea that his excommunication would possibly be lethal.