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Death's Chosen

[XIV]

||The Brewing Storm||

"You…. WHAT?!"

Mount Olympus shook as if an earthquake had struck the floating mountain as Zeus' voice thundered across its great hall, filled with malevolent ire that could give birth to a hurricane.

He rose from his regal throne made of gold and marble with red cushioning - a throne fit for the God of Gods. Kneeling before the flight of stairs carpeted in red was his foolish and confused daughter.

"B-but is that not a good thing I did?" Artemis defended, clutching her white dress. Confusion apparent on her face. "She is weak, father! She didn't manage to win a single spar against anyone else's Servant aside from Hestia's, but anyone can win against that human anyway. Better to leave now than to be defeated and killed, no?"

On her seat, Hestia frowned at that comment.

"Losing to our Servants is not to say your Servant is weak! FOOL!" Zeus shouted. Artemis flinched like she was about to be struck. All the other Olympians were either awkwardly quiet or gleefully enjoying their father's wrath; namely, Ares, Aphrodite, and Artemis' twin brother himself; Apollo.

"You Servant lost every spar she fought because she is a HUNTRESS. She's an ARCHER like YOU!"

Artemis sulked, not at all used to her father's wrath or being humiliated right before her own brothers and sisters.

"I-it's better to set her free than have our name humiliated!"

"Range is her advantage - something that she couldn't utilize well in the Arena as it is an open ground lacking cover which placed her at a severe disadvantage," Zeus continued, livid, "but that does not mean your Servant is weak! You simply lacked the sight to see where her strength lies, Artemis. We are the Gods of Gods. Faced with other Pantheons, we must prove our dominance has not faltered. Your Servant could have lessened the amount of Servants we might come to face, yet you were so dimwitted and set her free instead. As your father, I must say my disappointment in you is immeasurable."

The Goddess of the Hunt sniffled, shamefully staring at the marble floor to hide her face. Why did no one come to her defense yet? Nobody told her to consider these kinds of things! How could she know?

Feeling inclined to add his own two cents and tease his twin, Apollo spoke with a certain poetic flair, "I knew your head held a great amount of empty space within, but never have I thought for it to be this empty, dear sister."

"That's not true!" Artemis cried, her tear-ridden blue eyes glaring a sad glare at her twin brother, "I just didn't know! This is my first time participating in something like this, why do you have to be so rude about it?"

"It's called wisdom. It's staggeringly easy to see why you are not our Goddess of Wisdom. Maybe you would have some of it if you didn't communicate with animals, sister."

"They don't judge me for my wisdom! You guys always do! If this 'game' thing means so much to you, you could have told me about it! It's not like I wanted to tempt fate with Death!" Artemis cried as she turned and ran, storming outside the temple. "I maybe stupid but I know this is stupid!"

"Artemis!" Zeus yelled, "I'm not done with you yet- Artemis?! Artemis!" Too late. His shouts were unheeded as his daughter had disappeared among the pink clouds, sulking by her lonesome for a foreseeable amount of days.

The God of the Skies sighed a deflating sigh as he slumped back to his throne, rubbing his temple. "What a headache… is this her rebellious phase?"

"I believe that's just her being stupid, father."

"Silence, Ares. That's enough." The Father of the Olympians chided. The God of War grumbled quietly in his seat as Apollo and Aphrodite snickered at him. Zeus let several seconds pass before his booming voice filled the hall again. "Let her mistake become an example for all of you. Do not undermine the strength of our Servants. They are our fastest option to humiliate He Who Humiliates Us."

Death found it funny how Zeus believed referring to Him with a moniker would prevent Him from knowing the Olympians were talking about Him.

"Mine is ready, father!" Ares said proudly, standing from his throne, probably thinking it gave him an impressive effect. "Mordred is barely half as fierce as I am in battle, but I trust she will slay that idiot Chosen in one swift strike!"

"And so will mine." Apollo joined the standing party with a fist clenching his chest. "He's just a boy while my Servant has led Rome. What hope has he? To stand toe to toe against my Empress of Roses? Nero Claudius Caesar Augustus Germanicus?" He chuckled, "Even her name is far more impressive than this… Hyoudou Issei… What a rich joke. To think a mere human boy would become the Servant of De— He Who Shan't be Named, I mean."

Though she was not one to boast, she was one to wonder. Folding her hands, Athena let her voice heard, "True. Why him? Why the boy? A being like Him would never move without a motive. Could it be that He chose the boy knowing that he will be underestimated?"

"Nonsense." Ares replied, "I believe that boy is picked at random. He mustn't have expected us to choose heroes of the past. If He did, then wouldn't He have chosen someone better? Someone whose strength requires no questioning?"

"While that may be true, that boy is not the strongest human He could have picked in the present world." Athena alleged. "He's not a descendant of a hero, he's not chosen by a Holy Sword, he possesses no Sacred Gear, he's simply… a nobody - and yet, He handpicked this boy in particular..."

"Enough!" Zeus despised many things, and interpreting uncertainties when they could be something more meaningful was one of them. "Whatever His reason in choosing a daft human is, this is our chance to prove our worth. There is time before the boy matures, and until then, hone your Servant. Strive for nothing less than perfection. We. Must. Not. Fail."

All of his family nodded firmly except for the Goddess of the Hearth whose mind clearly wasn't in this place, which reignited the hearth of his ire.

"Hestia!"

The Little Goddess flinched as her name was shouted. "Y-yea? What is it?"

"Did you hear what I said?!"

"Uh... y-yeah… sure."

Rage coursed through his veins. Nobody averts their eyes from him. Nobody.

"You do not think of this matter seriously, do you?" He spoke, his voice like a rumbling volcano that was ready to erupt. "Why is it? Is it because you think you are better than us? Because you grovelled before Him like a spineless cub?"

Hestia blinked, confused that all hostility was suddenly aimed at her. "Wait, what? Uh… No?"

"Lies." Apollo accused, "She's evidently swooned by He Who Shan't Be Referred To."

"I'd say she's envious of Hephaestus, even." Aphrodite added with a light giggle, "To be able to stroll aimlessly with Life and openly flirt with Death? How nice must it be… no?"

Hestia gripped her velvet red cushion. "Hey guys, this is starting to not get cool…"

"Why? Because you don't see us as your siblings?" Ares bit, "Isn't that the reason why you never bother to talk to us beyond formal meetings?"

'That's because you guys are a bunch of jerks.' Was what she wanted to say, but wisely kept it to herself. "Well it's not like any of you have any time for a chit-chat. All you talk about is boast about your Chosen anyway…"

Zeus narrowed his sky blue eyes. "There you go again… Chosen. Chosen, Chosen, Chosen— THEY'RE SERVANTS!" he raged, causing the clouds outside to darken and howl. "We are their Master! We are their Gods! Humans are our worshippers and our servants! They are mere pawns in this game and nothing more! WE are the players, and our only competitor is Death!"

"Father, you just said His na—"

"SILENCE."

Apollo wisely shut his mouth.

"Death is our foe." Zeus rose from his throne, beginning his descent down his stairs as Hestia felt a sudden urge to bolt away and run. "Death is our only enemy. Whose side are you on, Hestia?"

"I'm on your side! K-kinda…" She managed, unconvinced, and shrunk to her cushion. "...Uh… Zeus, you're scaring me."

"Am I now?" He glared, towering over her small frame as he floated in front of her seat. "Why would you be scared if you're on our side? Did that meek human of yours infect you with her humanly anxiety, Little One? Are you mocking us by your lack of enthusiasm? First by choosing a weak human that is destined to die so that Death's Chosen can defeat her easily, and now this? Do you even care if we lose, Hestia?"

She gulped. "It's totally not that, I just—"

"Is it true that you don't value us as your family? Because you are the daughter of a Goddess and a Man, you are unable to see us as your family?"

"Zeus, I don't suppose—"

"Quiet, Athena." The God of Thunder cut her off without breaking his predatory glare from the Little Goddess, "I don't need wisdom. I need an answer from her, and when I ask, YOU ANSWER!"

Hestia flinched at first, but resolve and courage found her as she curled her fists. "Yeah. That's right. I don't see you as my family."

Several gasps. More chuckles and giggles. They must be thinking she was joking.

"Why would I see you as my family when you never see me as one?" She spoke up, standing on her platform as she faced Zeus without fear. "None of you ever see Hephaestus as one. We're like the black sheep of the family. Sure you talked to us sometimes, Athena, but talking because you pitied us? That's just as insulting."

Athena held her breath, flabbergasted.

"You don't scare me anymore, old man. I know I said you were scaring me literally a minute ago but that's a thing of the past." she continued despite Zeus' glare, now folding her hands to be more standoffish. "Death is a thousand times cooler and scarier than you. If you're gonna fire me, then don't bother, because I'm quitting."

Ah… it felt good. Cathartically good. She disliked having to talk formally because it wasn't considered 'godly'. That stupid notion that all gods should talk like they were some sophisticated scholar. Languages got casual over the ages and easily understandable regardless, so why couldn't she?

With a proud smile, Hestia sauntered down the stairs, advancing towards the giant entrance with a proud look. Humans didn't need her anyway to heat up theri stove or fireplace, and Hestia was self-aware enough to know that being an Olympian meant nothing more than a fancy title for a glory that was long gone.

She jumped backward when a thunderbolt struck the tile in front of her, exploding it to bits and leaving a black smudge.

"...Uh oh…" She was smart, but evidently, she wasn't smart enough not to rile Zeus when he was waiting for a reason to be angry. "T-truce?"

"You resign yourself from your position?" Zeus blared, casting another bolt of thunder as the dark clouds outside had spiraled into a supercell, flashing lightning that brewed inside its murky appearance. "Very well. I accept it with a forfeit of your life."

Dread filled her heart. Hestia immediately regretted her decision. She should have snuck out during the night. Being brave earlier was stupid of her, because now she was too scared to move.

"Father no!" Athena cried as Zeus lobbed another thunderbolt.

Hestia shut her eyes, and heard the explosion that should have scattered her body parts.

When she realized the pain didn't register, she gingerly opened her eyes, and saw the Aegis Shield had taken the blow for her and her Servant.

"Mash?!"

"YOU?!"

"I… I saw Artemis and I got curious." The Chosen admitted, looking past her shoulder to give Hestia a reassuring smile. "Are you alright, Master?"

"Wh—what the heck? You're so cool I might just fall for you right now."

Mash's face became red as a beet. "Wh-wh-what do you mean?"

"Good. The traitor's helper has presented herself." Zeus glowered as his thunderbolts crackled. "I appreciate you for saving my time."

Mash raised her gigantic shield. "Run, Master!"

"Don't be an idiot!" Hestia scowled, hiding behind the armored girl, "You're leaving this place with me!"

"None of you shall leave this place in one piece."

"Father, you can't!" Athena pleaded, only to be cut by Ares' words. But her words had reached Zeus this time as his bolts didn't leave his grip.

"Zip it, sister. You are wise. You ought to know this is her just punishment." And Ares spoke the truth. No one quits from the Olympian without a price to pay, and they knew Zeus' anger was justified. Hermes had dipped his brown hat to cover his eyes while several other Olympians watched with a disconcerting amount of curiosity and undignified thirst for bloodshed.

"She's just a child!" Despite that, the Goddess of Wisdom relented, rising from her seat to mediate the two, or at least save a life. "Let them go, Father. Show them mercy." And perhaps, Death would show them the same. "Exile Hestia. Her Servant has no correlation to your wrath. They haven't the strength to fight you or any of us. Why would a god butcher helpless cubs?"

Anxiously, Hestia shifted her stare from Zeus to Athena and then at Zeus again, wary if the angry god was going to lob another thunderbolt at her. Mash was lucky Zeus didn't empower his first lightning bolt - otherwise, only the Aegis Shield would have remained. She would have been turned to ashes..

"You turned your back against your own blood. Your betrayal will go unforgotten." He swore seethingly as he launched his thunderbolts into the supercell; generating violent flashes as the storm rumbled hungrily. " I will leave you in the hands of fate. Wade through that thunderstorm, mewling spawn. Survive and you may leave. Never set a foot in this place again."

Good enough for her- "Agreed. We'll leave!"

Dragging a still cautious Mash with her as she took off into the skies, Athena feebly watched them disappear into the brewing storm, and prayed to… anyone who could hear her prayer -Death, perhaps- to spare Hestia, and to forgive her for being a horrible sister to the Little Goddess.

She turned around as Zeus stomped angrily back to his throne, grumbling away with Ares and Apollo who were experts in worsening the matters at hand. Hera, his wife, had left her seat long since, bored at things that weren't related to her Servant that she loved more than she loved her own children. Demeter wasn't much different - the Greek Goddess of Harvest left her seat to return to her Servant, Medusa, who had become a replacement for Persephone who now ruled the Realm of the Dead along with Hades.

Hermes had ditched the area too. He was Dionysus' replacement since Dionysus kept on throwing redundant parties, but unlike Hestia, he had respect from the other Olympians; being their messenger and all. Aphrodite looked more disappointed in the lack of murder than the loss of an Olympian that was her own niece.

Artemis was nowhere to be seen, likely upset. Hephaestus had yet to return from her journey with Death and the Avatar of Life. And now Hestia had left for good.

Athena sighed bleakly, failing to find any ray of hope in her family filled with egos.

A family tree could be beautiful once you cut away the poisonous, malignant branches that were harmful for the tree; this she knew, for she was wise. She wasn't sure which branch to cut when the tree itself was poisonous.

All families had their own problems. Hers was more distressing and prone to break. Hephaestus and Hestia were the white sheep in the family of black - Athena wished she could tell which part of the herd she belonged.

She sighed sadly.

Perhaps chatting with Jeanne would help her ease her troubled mind.

Break

Death knew every past. The present was always there, always fleeting, shifting into the past before a second could pass by. He could tell the future, but would rather not know it until it became the present.

He knew the desire motivating the Servants of the Gods to do their bidding. Those that wanted a second chance, those who wanted to be reunited with their lost families, those who longed for affection, those who thirsted for battle, those who wanted to murder the other Servant to settle their past grudges - among many other personal agendas.

Each and every single one of them. All two thousand, three hundred and seventy-four of them. A number that had been steadily dwindling as days came to pass, and that number would fall at an alarming rate once His restrictions regarding His Chosen were lifted.

He saw the bonds that had cultivated between some Servants and their respective 'Master', and found them horribly lacking.

Too many Servants main intent was to win against His Chosen and attain their wish. Not enough deities cared enough to give them another reason. Winning was the only thing that mattered in their head. Winning, for both these Gods and these Servants, was all there was to it.

Death wasn't sure who had let Him down the most. The gods and their egos or Himself; for expecting the gods would develop a strong bond with their Servant that may soften their view regarding humanity as a whole; that humanity wasn't a mere tool in a toolbox free to be used.

At the very least, it was easier for Him to find those who valued their Servant or a Servant who cared for their God. Few and far between, like tiny candles that burned radiant in a black ocean of arrogance. Not at all enough to fend their surrounding darkness, but they were there, beyond the shadow's reach - safe from His final judgment.

Death found it rather profound that most of these gods were the gods that were nearly forgotten, whose Servants were very much likely to fail once they fought against Servants with the blessing of a greater deity. Perhaps they found it easier to bond with fellow underdogs of this game.

He found it revolting how many Servants had been thrown away by the gods once they were defeated, as if a useless piece of junk, left to die in three days. His rule stating only one Servant may fight His Chosen at a time had become their reason for the pragmatic treatment. They had no use for a Servant that was weaker than theirs, and the gods had no use for a Servant that no longer had the right to fight Hyoudou Issei. Because what's the point?

It was practical. Sensible, even. They were forbidden to bless more than one Servant with their power, and even if the god of the beaten Servant didn't cut their Divine Blessing -the lower form of Blessing of Life that allowed these Servants to live instead of returning to the their respective Underworld-, few gods wanted to keep the defeated Servant.

Because in the end, these Servants had lost their right to fight Death's Chosen.

But not all of them simply threw them away, of course.

Some kept them for a worse fate.

The benevolent ones let the beaten Servants remain with their initial god should they wish to. The pragmatic ones kept them as their Servants' bodyguards; more bodies to throw into the fray lest another god challenged them. The twisted ones kept them as their pet - as nothing more than glorified sex slaves to sate their needs.

Was this Game of Death a mistake?

Of course not.

Did He feel guilty?

Absolutely not.

To revive and treat the Servant was the god's responsibility - not His.

The Game made it easier for Him to find those deserving redemption, it also made it easier to find those who deserved none. Easier to see the gods' true colors now that they were able to interact with the humans more freely. Easier to sieve the good seeds and the rotten seeds.

There was a god who managed to surprise Him, however. A certain trickster god who would bestow further chaos upon the supernatural worlds. A Nordic god who cleverly used chaos as a ladder instead of falling into that gaping pit waiting to swallow everything. A god who saw the potential of His game, and merged it into his own personal plan as he had successfully awakened the Sleeping Devil; Rizevim Livan Lucifer by giving the super devil a reason to step out from his castle; rule over every Realms.

Loki forged his own path. An 'evil' path nonetheless but as someone who was beyond Good and Evil, Death commended that to him.

Besides… This Qlippoth of theirs might as well become the catalyst for the gods to either band against a common enemy, or join them and fulfill their buried ambitions of ruling their world.

Death stopped them last time. Ten thousand gods clawing at each other were too many for Earth to shoulder.

The gods have their own Realms now.

Why shouldn't He let them destroy themselves?

Well, other than the fact Life would be sad, and would grieve for those undeserving Her tears.

But better sooner than later.

All that was left for Him to do was keep His patience, and wait until His sister accepted the sickening truth of Her Creations' malice, and grant Him the permission to reap the bad harvests.

Which seemed to be going just as planned.

Death watched Lenora desperately trying to console her distraught scarlet-haired friend to no avail, becoming equally as sad because she didn't like it when her friend was upset.

He and the Human Avatar of His sister had waited outside a coffee shop in Athens, sitting on one of the tables that forced Him to minimize so he could fit on the chair. While Lenora was ordering her second serving of baklava, Hephaestus went to the Realm of Olympus on her own.

He knew, of course, of the chaos sowed among the Olympians. How Hestia and her Chosen barely survived the thunderstorm. How lightning tore their clothes, scorched their skin, ripped their flesh. The Aegis Shield could only block attacks from the front, and the Goddess wasn't powerful enough to protect them both against a dozen thunder strikes at once. Ordinary thunder perhaps, but not Zeus'.

Despite knowing, Death didn't aid them as that was the path they had chosen. And being the 'Rule' itself, He refused to interfere with a Pantheon's familial matter. Why should He bother if they chose to destroy themselves from within.

Once Hephaestus arrived, and heard of the news of her sister's exile and the punishment Zeus had given her, she forsook her reason of coming home and immediately blazed through the storm. A trail of blazing flame left in her wake as her raging fire dissolved the brewing storm, breaking the Olympian's rule that no one shall interfere with anyone undergoing a penalty, effectively resigning her status as an Olympian.

She reached Hestia and Mash as they plummeted down the skies, unconscious and severely injured.

And now here they were, in a quaint hotel back in Japan because of their exile, with Lenora desperately comforting her sobbing friend in the living room. Hestia and Mash rested in peace in their bedroom. Lenora didn't beg her brother to heal their injuries; she did it herself.

They wouldn't have made it if she didn't, which was reason enough for her, but Hephaestus' crying had steeled her resolve, as well as it had wavered it.

"He's— he was going to kill her!" The Olympian, brokenhearted, cried into Lenora's sweater, dampening the cotton material with her tears. "His own granddaughter… What did she ever do to him? She didn't deserve this…"

Lenora was fighting back her tears, failing miserably. She wasn't good at holding back tears no matter what kind they were. Emphatic tears were the hardest to dam. Hephaestus was her only friend in this world, and seeing her cry broke her heart.

"It's okay, it's okay… she's safe here now with you. My brother's here, he won't let anything bad happen to them... Please don't cry. You're gonna make me cry. Actually, I'm already crying."

"I'm sorry—" Hephaestus hitched, sniffling, "It's just that… How could they? She's just an innocent soul, and no one helped her… Even Athena?! How could they value their stupid rule more than their own flesh and blood? Because she's a Demi? What kind of reasoning is that…?"

Lenora, with quivering lips, looked at her brother who was leaning by a wall next to the TV, screaming 'help' with her eyes.

When Life asks for His help, Death will deliver.

"They don't value their rule," He corrected, "it's power that they valued above all else. Power to defeat my Chosen. They're the same as many others - though you won't find respite in knowing any of this. You're sad your trust is broken. It's fine to cry. It is a grave injustice to a child or adult to insist they stop their tears, for not all tears are evil."

Hephaestus wept.

As time flew, Hephaestus fell asleep in her embrace, and was now resting on her lap as Lenora stared at the TV with a distant look He had never seen before.

Death sat by her side, making Himself smaller. Smaller but still tall enough that Lenora could lay her head against His shoulder guard, and sniffle.

"...I don't understand…" She whispered. It pained Him that her cheerful tone had left her voice, but He knew this was a lesson necessary for her. "...It's… not everyone is like this… right?"

"Of course not." Death assured, His voice soft. Eerie still, but softer. Warmer, somehow. "Her family happens to be… a horribly dysfunctional family." He told her. Subjectively, He despised gods. He still thought of them as parasites. But Death could be objective when He wasn't being critical.

After all, He was nothing if not fair.

"Please don't blame yourself." He whispered. His gauntleted hand reached for her olive brown locks, gently caressing her. A few of her strands had turned pure white due to the usage of her power - her human vessel wasn't created to perform miracles, thereby some mutations were to be expected.

"But I created them…" Lenora wept, crumpling her sleeves as she buried her face into her hands, "...I gave them these flaws…"

"And it is by their own free will to act this way." Death muttered, stroking her shoulder-length hair, "You are not to be held responsible for their actions - they are."

"I don't get it." She sniffled, "Is it because of their power? If I take it away, would they act the same? Would Hephaestus and her sister be cast out then?"

"Perhaps they would. Perhaps they wouldn't." Death replied vaguely. "Speculations of 'what ifs' are never certain, sister; they never happened."

"Are you… will you purge them again...?"

"Positively." He said bluntly. "Not without your accord, however. They are yours."

"...Yet yours to harvest."

"Evidently so." She could never have the will to put her own creations to rest.

Lenora rubbed her wet eyes with her sleeves as Death floated a tissue box towards her. She yanked a white sheet with a quiet 'thanks' before blowing her nose, crumpling the tissue in her hand.

"...What now?" She asked, uncertain for once. "Are you going to call me a fool… brother?" Death tilted His hood, "Because I was being ignorant of your game… stupidly hoping they could prove you wrong. I wanted to laugh at your face like 'ha!' you know."

"Depends." Death hummed. He wasn't surprised. Not at all. When He was warning Hephaestus not to tell His sister, He was simply testing Hephaestus herself, not because He feared Lenora would find out. The former Olympian passed the test, of course, by refraining what she had learned in order to make Lenora stay happy.

Because in the end, their 'secret' didn't matter. Lenora had always known.

Death knew the past.

So did Life.

His sister had always been smarter and more prone to worry over many things than her bubbly personality would suggest. It wasn't that she was being fake - she just didn't want to care about the things that would sadden her, like her brother and His plan. Choosing to be happy by pretending to not know and let it happen. It was only when she was melancholic and moody that she let her guard down.

"...Depends on what."

"Depends on how hopeless you are."

"I'm not hopeless." Lenora pouted, lifting her head to glare at her brother's… inexistent face. "They're gonna prove you wrong and I know it."

"Sure." Death smiled. This was more like it. Being hopeless didn't suit Life at all. Being stupidly hopeful was more like Her.

The future was never certain.

He would rather be right, but Death would never mind it if Life was right.

He would mind if Life found She was right, and yet She hoped to be wrong instead.

Because if that was the case, then no gods are safe. Including those He pardoned.

Death won either way; even if He was wrong. If He was wrong, then Life could be happy. If He was right, then He would gladly perform His duty. Victory was assured for Him since the start; it was always going to be the pyrrhic and bittersweet. He could be right or wrong but His sister would mourn regardless.

This was all for Her, after everything was over and done. She cared about the future of Her creations, and She knew this was necessary without question.

He just wished some hard truths wouldn't hit Her as hard.

The questions that remained were; how long would She mourn? How many Servants could His Chosen save? How many would lose their second life without meaning? How many gods would it take to make Her realize they didn't deserve to be saved? How many gods would it take to make Him realize they deserved to be saved?

Death didn't know, and He'd rather not know.

A Game of Life and Death. It was the same as any other game, except the winner had just as much to celebrate or lament as the loser.

"Brother…" Whispered Lenora, "Will you erase my memory for me?"

Death sighed. "It'll hurt the same when you learn it the second time. Better to live with it and let it heal."

"...Mu…" He had a point. Her brother always had a point even in silly conversations that seemed pointless. "...There's just too much going on. I can't keep up with it."

"Wrong." He pointedly said, "You don't want to. There's a difference."

"Aaaaghh— ignorance is bliss is what they all say!" Lenora whisper-shouted, careful not to wake up her resting friend. "...It's all my fault in the end. Maybe I shouldn't have created anything."

Death held a long, drawn-out sigh that sounded like a howling of a wind in the dead of the night in a prairie.

"Yes," He calmly said, "if you hadn't created anything, then none of this would have happened. We would be lingering in the darkness doing nothing, and it would be abysmally boring. Imperfection and violence will always present themselves in this plane of existence - regardless of its time and place. But along with it, so will advancement. Progresses will be made. Nature may dither but mankind is striving for its preservation albeit at a snail-like pace. Devils have turned Hell into a paradise, so can humans should they have the will. Their future is not at all bleak as some of them may believe."

"...What about my children?" Lenora squeezed Death's sleeve. "Can they have a future too?"

"They're the ones responsible for their fate." Death answered. A casual tone. "Their future is theirs to shape."

Break

The dark sun was setting in the Valefor Hills located at the outskirts of the House Gremory's territory, and Issei peacefully relaxed at the balcony of the mansion.

It had been a long day filled with mental and physical exercises.

In the morning, once everyone had breakfast -save Tiamat who was still sleeping since no one dared to wake a sleeping dragon- Rias gathered everyone in the living room to study clips of Riser's Rating Games, writing down potential weaknesses for each of his Servants as well as their individual strength. He wasn't going to actively partake as he had hoped, but Balthazar insisted Issei to observe the way his Servants fight; their fighting styles, the distance his magic-based Servants could effectively bombard anyone with their spells, calculate the speed of his Knights, and measure the strength of his Rooks and finally the Young Phoenix - Riser himself.

He had never paid that amount of attention in school.

Afterwards, as the sun rose to the top of their head, everybody trained. He trained as per his usual routine, only with Tiamat on his back this time. She got upset when he told her she was light, reminding him that dragons had their own compliments.

Rias, Yumi, Raynare and Koneko participated with his training regime, only to collapse and further believe the assumption that Issei was a monster for being able to sprint up and down the mountain ten times without pausing. Even Koneko gave up midway when he was doing his ten sets consisting a hundred repetition of push-ups and pull-ups for upper body strength, and ten sets of the equal amount of sit-ups, jumping jacks, and five minutes of shadow boxing to build his lower body strength as well as work on his footwork.

They took a break at a nearby waterfall, which Issei immediately plunged into. It was refreshing, but not as refreshing as surveying Rias and Yumi stripping down from their tracksuits, revealing their damp black sports bra, hugging their already delectable body glistened with sweat.

It was marvelous. It was hot. It was downright sexy and turned him on easily like flicking a light switch.

Unfortunately, Koneko insisted on putting a blindfold on him.

After lunch and an hour of break, the group sparred against each other one at a time as Rias made a personal note for each of her Servants, stating what areas they lacked and what areas they excelled, essentially becoming everyone's coach, manager, and personal trainer all at once. Something that Issei doubted he could have done.

She then sparred against Raynare, who was scarily more than eager to oblige.

Rias lost.

Despite her defeat, everyone including Raynare herself believed it was due to her restraint. Rias wasn't able to use her Power of Destruction as it would do the two more harm than good. Sure they had Twilight Healing, but the Sacred Gear couldn't heal a destroyed organ.

Nonetheless, the Gremory felt a bit gloomy afterwards.

As the devils were training with themselves, Issei held a bout against Tiamat. He didn't have much success either, but at least he knew how to control his fall so it didn't hurt as much, and how to prevent his balls from being destroyed by a mean kick.

When the sun began to set, the devils took another break. Issei kept practicing - remaining true to his words that he would train harder. Balthazar taught him how to wield Rias' Power of Destruction without risking injuring his hand, and without expending all at once since he couldn't generate Demonic Power.

Wielding a flanged mace forged from the destructive power was like receiving a cool new toy to play with, only this one was more violent and may incur severe brain damage - assuming there were some leftovers.

He had asked to wield a sword so he could be like those heroes he often saw in games and movies and basic animes, but Balthazar's response was; "It's an easier weapon to handle than a sword, and deadly even in untrained hands. Swordsmanship requires skills that take years to fully learn, and it's not as effective in piercing armors - something I'm certain you will often encounter when you face other Chosens - unless they're idiots. A mace is much simpler. Swing, twist your wrist, use its momentum to launch another strike. A bash of a mace will clatter an armor; a bash of a mace powered by Power of Destruction may dent the armor into their flesh."

He didn't get to dual wield a sword like a badass, but he now knew how to effectively bash someone's brains.

All in all, it was one heck of a day, everybody was tired but excited to show off their skills in the Rating Game, and Issei was overall a happy little boy. So happy that he felt like staring at the strange, colorful skies of Hell.

"This is the good shit." He muttered. A simple smile on his face. "I hope it stays that way."

{Aye.} Balthazar hummed, {May it never change you for the worse.}

Aaaand his good vibe was ruined. "...Oi… don't get all foreshadowy on me… Freaks me out man."

The Void Dragon chuckled in his petty amusement.

{But you've changed, boy.} he said, {You have the mentality of a winner now. Am I wrong to say you would like to clash against a Chosen soon?}

"Heck yeah." Issei grinned, proud of himself. "I feel awesome. Honestly can't wait for the Rating Game."

{And has grown a taste for violence as well, I see.}

"H-hey… no one can die in that game-thing so…" He rubbed his neck; his usual uncomfortable body language, "Besides, it's not like I want to kill anyone…"

{Hah! It's fine. It's better that you do.} Balthazar chortled like a rumbling volcano, {Land of the wolves boy, land of the wolves. If you refuse to contend among the wolves, simply become a presence they fear.}

True…

'I am Death's Chosen.' He thought, mostly to himself. Assuring and reminding himself of his position; the reason he was able to feel accomplished on this day, and able to look at his boring past with a brave smile. No longer that Perverted Issei. Now he was a Strong, Independent, Perverted Issei, who wasn't afraid to brutally maim anyone in order to protect himself.

{Ah yes, I nearly forgot; congrats, boy.}

Issei blinked. "For what?"

{Fucking the devil.}

"PFFT—" He jolted from the lounging couch and sat up straight, choking on his own spit while Balthazar laughed boisterously.

"Fuck—" Issei coughed, slapping his chest as he hacked, "that threw me off."

{Did it now… wait, where is she going?}

Rubbing his chest, Issei stood up as he walked to the safety railings made of some expensive stone he didn't know the name of. He peered over to the nearby woodlands down the hill, and saw a tiny spot walking towards it.

He squinted. The image was sharp, but that person was like an ant from afar. "A binocular would be fuckin great right now."

{Say no more.}

Issei almost screamed when his sight zoomed in like a camera, closing in on that mysterious person with an astounding amount of detail.

"Oh shit, this is so robocop-y— holdup…" He repressed his urge to scream when he saw her small back and her striking short white hair, "Koneko? That's Koneko, right, Raz?"

{Yeh.}

She looked oddly anxious, glancing left and right, tippy toeing as if she was trying to peer into the depth of the forest without entering it.

"What's she doing?"

{Beats me.} Balthazar muttered, {She's been acting unusual since the waterfall.}

"Ya think so?" Issei hunched an eyebrow, not at all doubting the dragon since he was sharper than him at reading body languages. "D'you think she's just creeped out by me?"

{She's used to your perverted antics.} the dragon replied bluntly, at which Issei propped his chest as he took it as a compliment. {This is something unrelated, I reckon. Her eyes frolicked as though her senses picked up upon something.}

"Maybe she's just antsy about being in the forest. Or maybe she wants to explore it?"

{Tiamat mentioned she sensed two cat-like presences loitering the woodland. Perhaps she smelled them.}

"Smelled..." Issei mumbled, nodding a few times, making a mental note to never let out a fart when Koneko was nearby. "She said those were a cat and a lion though. Mountain cats and lions probably... This place isn't Earth, but it prolly has those kinds of animals too, right? I saw some rabbits at the waterfall. Birds too."

He didn't know what species they were, but they were clearly larger than their Earthly, normal counterpart. They had a horn as well for self-defense reasons. He wouldn't be surprised if the horns were poisonous.

Balthazar shrugged. {Supposedly so. The girl's part cat herself. Perhaps she's hunting for a small game.}

"Small game?" Parroted Issei.

{A rabbit or a mouse. Small prey she snacks upon - who knows. I haven't seen much of this world's fauna.} Balthazar audibly wondered, licking his colossal snout. {I'm eager to taste all of them, however.}

The Devourer was, after all, quite the gourmet himself. He made a notion that today's lunch calamari tasted not far from a Cthulhu meat. Chewy but more succulent and salty. Not that Issei knew what kind of weird void-monster-thing it was.

He just knew Balthazar was a dragon of great mystery and greater appetite.

{Maybe she's marking her territory. Your world's canines and felines big or small tend to do that, aye?}

"...I don't think cat-girls do that kind of stuff..."

{Have you seen one to... Hm? Strange... I felt a sudden influx of godlike energy from that forest-}

When Balthazar hummed a mildly questioning tune, Issei blinked once when an arrow cut through the reincarnated devil's petite body and embedded itself on the grass on a hill behind her. He froze when Koneko sank to her knees, clutching her bleeding stomach, confused, as a distressed shout pierced the heavy air;

"SHIRONE!"

{Ah. A storm has come.}

To be continued...

Dun dun dunnnnn. Shit just got real. The buildup is now done, and now the real story can start.

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