[Timer: 10:00. Clean uniform en route. Scent erasure protocol initiated.]
A pulse of heat spiked up Issei's spine—violent, searing, and utterly alien. It wasn't the warmth of sunlight on his skin or the adrenaline surge of a fight. No, this was something primal, something older than the bones of the earth. A fever awakening in his marrow.
"Shit," he hissed, clutching his stomach as his vision swam. "Gotta move."
He ducked past rows of lockers, slipping unseen through the student crowd. Every step felt heavier, like the air itself resisted him. Lights overhead flickered. A low, predatory growl hummed at the edge of hearing, one only he could feel.
Past the old gym. Past the unused track yard. Down a forgotten service corridor to a rusted door. No one came here anymore. Perfect.
He slammed it shut behind him, bracing against the cold metal.
[Timer: 08:34.]
Then it hit.
Agony—white, hot, soul-deep.
His knees buckled, slamming against cracked tile. A scream tore from his throat before he could bite it back. Muscles twisted, ripped, then mended themselves stronger. Bones cracked like old branches, reforming, thickening. Skin burned as if flayed by unseen hands. Blood roared in his ears.
His heart thundered like a war drum.
"GAAAH—!"
His vision blurred, the room melting away. And then—images.
A dragon.
But not like Ddraig. Not like anything he'd imagined in years of fantasy and anime obsessions.
This one was apocalypse incarnate. An ancient wyrm whose wings eclipsed stars, whose roar split galaxies and sundered time itself. Its eyes blazed with twin suns—twin golden infernos, ancient and terrible.
It looked at him.
And it saw him.
[Warning: Evolution nearing peak threshold.]
[Do not resist. Let the dragon emerge.]
Issei's body seized. Golden scales flickered beneath his skin, spectral wings of flame unfurling from his back, half-formed and immense. Fire hissed from his lips in ragged, gasping breaths.
"I… can't—"
Then—silence.
The world narrowed to a single pulse.
He collapsed, chest heaving, the scent of scorched air thick around him. His fingers left molten handprints where they pressed to the floor.
[Transformation Complete.]
[Host has successfully integrated the True Dragon Bloodline.]
[Abilities Unlocked: Enhanced Physical Stats | Draconic Presence | Fire Resistance | Breath of the First Flame (Dormant) | Sunshine – Power of the Crimson Sun]
[Sunshine: A unique, soul-bound ability granting control over solar power. The host absorbs sunlight constantly, increasing baseline abilities even at night. During daylight hours, power escalates dramatically. The host can create miniature suns, unleash sun-based attacks, and radiate heat capable of melting stone. Sunshine deals increased damage to creatures of the night.]
[Replacement uniform equipped. Evolution traces erased.]
Issei lay still, drenched in sweat, his breath ragged.
Something ancient lives inside me now.
A sleeping inferno. A god coiled around his heart.
He laughed, hoarse and wild.
"That… hurt like hell."
But gods, did he feel alive. Every movement was sharp, precise, clean. His senses flared—the dust hanging in the air, the rust corroding the hinges, the heartbeat of a bird far outside the courtyard window. His blood hummed with a new power, a tide surging just beneath his skin.
He staggered to his feet, moving toward a cracked, dusty mirror hung askew on the wall.
The reflection staring back was not the same boy who'd cowered from a fallen angel's spear.
Broader shoulders. Sharper jawline. Eyes no longer brown, but a molten, shifting gold—sunfire flickering in their depths.
A predator where once stood prey.
And deep in his soul, something else stirred.
A pulse.
A growl.
The presence of Ddraig in the Boosted Gear—a territorial rumble, wary and intrigued, as though a rival god had entered the den.
But for now… the dragon remained silent.
Issei grinned.
"No one's killing me again."
[System Log: Evolution Protocol Complete.]
The words scrolled across his vision like ancient scripture. He exhaled a shaky breath.
"Why me?" he asked aloud, voice thick with exhaustion and wonder. "Why was I chosen?"
The reply was instant. Calm. Immutable.
[Because my creator chose you.]
"Who?"
[The Outer God of Stories. A being whose thoughts birth universes. Every fiction you consumed—anime, manga, games—they were fragments of his design. He threads pieces of his worlds into yours.]
He chuckled darkly, wiping sweat from his brow. "Of course. Why not."
[A story only becomes eternal when reborn in another's soul. You are that vessel.]
Another grin split his lips.
"No. I'm not just Issei Hyoudou anymore."
He pushed open the door, sunlight spilling over his face like a benediction.
And the world noticed.
The courtyard's energy shifted the moment his foot crossed the threshold. Conversations faltered. Heads turned. A ripple of tension shot through the student body like the instinctive flinch of prey before a predator.
Rias Gremory's sapphire eyes narrowed across the courtyard. She felt it.
Sona Shitori adjusted her glasses, sensing the pressure in the air.
Akeno's easy smirk faltered.
Tsubaki's breath caught in her throat.
Even Koneko, usually cold and unreadable, froze mid-step. Her feline instincts screamed warnings in her blood—the scent of an ancient predator in the air. Her fists clenched at her sides, white-knuckled and trembling.
And in a shadowed corner of the dimensional void between worlds, a pair of infinite, indifferent gray eyes blinked.
Ophis tilted her head.
A new flicker in the pattern.
…Boring.
She turned her gaze elsewhere.
But Ddraig's growl rumbled low in the Boosted Gear, a note of challenge and wariness. The Red Dragon Emperor knew something old had awoken in his host.
Issei walked through it all like a rising storm.
Every step carrying the weight of a predator wearing the crimson sun.
A new player had entered the board.
And nothing in Kuoh Academy would ever be the same.
The shift in the courtyard's atmosphere lasted only a moment before the usual noise of Kuoh Academy resumed—students hurrying between classes, conversations picking up again, though more than a few lingering gazes trailed after Issei as he made his way to homeroom.
It didn't take long for his so-called friends to find him.
"Yo! Issei!" Matsuda jogged up, arm slinging over his shoulder. "Where the hell'd you vanish to after first period? And what's with the new uniform? You rob the supply closet or somethin'?"
Motohama adjusted his glasses, squinting at him like he was trying to solve a math equation with his face. "You've been acting weird all morning, man. Spill it. Don't tell me you finally confessed to Rias-senpai and got shot down?"
Issei smirked. "Nah. I asked to join her club."
Both of them stared.
A beat passed.
Then—"Whaaat?!"
Matsuda nearly choked on his own spit. "You're shittin' me!"
Motohama's glasses flashed. "The Occult Research Club?! You?!"
"Yeah," Issei shrugged, the corner of his mouth twitching. "I figured… why not? Might be fun."
He wasn't about to tell them the truth. About bloodlines and dragons and ancient gods threading stories through his veins.
Some things you kept for yourself.
"Also," he added, leaning in conspiratorially, "I'm gonna clean out my stash. Magazines, DVDs… whole collection. You two want it?"
Matsuda's jaw dropped. Motohama made an unholy noise.
"Are you dying?!" Matsuda yelped.
"Nope. Just… upgrading."
They didn't get it. Couldn't. Not yet.
The bell rang, cutting off their gawking, and Issei headed for class, leaving the two of them to fight over imaginary dibs on his prized possession.
⸻
Lunch Break. Rooftop.
Issei sat alone, the city's sun-drenched skyline stretching out before him. The warmth on his skin was more than comfort now—it felt like a living thing, coiling through his blood, bolstering him.
A flicker of gold danced in his palm, unnoticed… until a voice cut through the quiet.
"You're different."
Issei turned.
Koneko Toujou stood there, tray in hand, expression as flat as always—but her golden eyes were locked onto him like a predator finding its equal.
She didn't ask permission to sit. She just did.
A long silence stretched between them, broken only by the clatter of chopsticks and the distant hum of the courtyard below.
Then:
"That power earlier. Was it yours?"
Issei didn't answer immediately. The words came slower than expected, heavy in his chest.
"Yeah," he admitted, not bothering to deny it.
She nodded once, as if confirming something only she could sense. But there was something strange in her gaze—cautious, sure, but also… comforted?
She stared at him, pupils narrowing like a cat basking in sunlight. The tension in her small shoulders eased, a flicker of warmth in her guarded eyes.
His Sunshine ability radiated steadily around him, a subtle aura that made those nearby feel safer, calmer. For creatures of the night, it should have been discomforting—but for some reason, to Koneko, it wasn't.
"You feel… warm," she muttered, more to herself than to him. "Not bad warm."
Issei blinked. That was practically a confession coming from her.
"Yeah? Well, thanks, I guess."
Another long pause.
Then, she picked a piece of fried chicken off his bento without asking.
"I'll be watching you," she said around a mouthful of food.
Issei smirked. "Looking forward to it, shortstack."
The faintest twitch of a smile ghosted across her lips before she returned to eating, the unspoken understanding settling between them like the first thread of an alliance.
In the crimson gauntlet resting near his bed, a dormant power stirred, sensing its host's evolution.
And across the courtyard, Akeno's brow lifted. A spark danced at her fingertips.
"Hmm… interesting."