Snow blanketed the forest in a suffocating white, the night air heavy and bitterly cold.
A young blond boy crawled across the frozen ground, his body trembling violently as he dragged himself forward through the snow.
His cold breath came out in ragged, wheezing gasps, his throat burning, his lungs seared by the poisonous gas still clinging to him with each exhale rattled like broken glass in his chest.
His once bright blue eyes were bloodshot and swollen with tears, blurring his vision.
He could barely see the trees anymore, only the traumatic images that transpired just recently.
He coughed violently, spitting blood into the snow, his body convulsing as he whispered to himself.
"W-Why… Why me… Why did they let me live…?"
His weak voice cracked, torn between sorrow and rage.
Images flashed in his mind.
The screams of his friends, their hands clawing against glass as the gas filled the chambers, their eyes teary and wide with terror as they begged and prayed for help.
He hadn't been able to save them, but they saved him instead.
He had abandoned them.
And their stares, the cruel, indifferent stares of the men who called themselves priests and scientists, burned endlessly in his head.
Most of all, the face of 'that man' burned into his memory.
Short, bespectacled, gray hair neatly parted, the thin mustache above his lips curling as he smiled.
His black eyes glinted with sadistic satisfaction beneath the priest's garb.
That voice, calm and cold, gave the order to unleash the gas.
The boy's fingers dug into the frozen ground, nails cracking against the ice.
He whispered the name with venom.
"Valper… Galilei…"
His body shook with hatred.
"Holy Swords… this cursed project… you… you bastards…"
Tears streamed down his face, mixing with blood as he clenched his jaw, rage overpowering grief.
"I swear… I swear I'll come back…"
His words grew louder, each one trembling with wrath.
"I'll kill you… and I'll destroy those cursed swords..."
And then it happened.
A strange power began to seep out of his frail body, swirling around him like smoke as red and black energy twisted, writhing, feeding off his hatred.
His Sacred Gear, Sword Birth, responded to his fury, his grief, his rage.
His body trembled violently as the aura grew thicker, his fingers gripping the rough bark of a tree just to stay upright.
His blue eyes began to glow, burning into a full crimson red, his gaze fixed on the pale light of the moon overhead.
"As long as I live…"
His voice cracked into a scream.
"I swear.. I will destroy them… I WILL DESTROY THEM ALL!"
A burst of red light erupted from his body, shaking the forest.
Black armor began to materialize across his form, cladding his small frame.
It was jagged, unnatural, almost beast-like, with crimson lines pulsing like veins.
The helm formed last, its monstrous visage glaring with two sharp red eyes.
His weak, frail body was gone, replaced by a black demonic armor created by rage and grief.
And then...
DxD
"AAAAAHHH!"
The boy woke up screaming.
His voice cracked as he bolted upright in bed, his body drenched in sweat.
His breath came in ragged gasps, his hands trembling violently.
His heart pounded against his chest as if it wanted to break free.
He frantically looked around, expecting to see a forest, the lab, the chambers, the faces of his dying friends.
But instead, he saw a fancy-looking bedroom with morning sunlight streaming through an open window.
He blinked rapidly, confusion overtaking fear.
Clean sheets covered him, the scent of fresh air came through the window, mixed with the faint smell of flowers.
His bruises, cuts, and blood, the wounds he remembered, were gone.
He glanced down and realized he was dressed in a fresh set of clean clothes.
(Where… am I?)
He thought, eyes narrowing suspiciously.
His body tensed, instincts screaming at him that this was a trap.
Just then, light footsteps echoed outside the door.
He immediately sat up straighter, his hand clenching into a fist, ready to fight if he had to.
The doorknob turned slowly, and the door creaked open.
A soft voice entered before the small figure did.
"Excuse me."
It was a girl.
A blonde-haired girl, her green eyes kind but wide with surprise.
She held a small bouquet in her hands, as if she had come to decorate the room.
But before she could even finish her sentence, her gaze snapped to the bed.
The boy was no longer there.
She blinked in confusion.
"Eh? Where did he-?"
Her words cut off with a muffled sound.
A hand suddenly covered her mouth from behind, cold steel pressing against the side of her neck.
"Don't scream."
The boy's harsh voice growled in her ear, his tone sharp, desperate.
"If you do, I'll cut you. So shut up and answer me."
Asia froze, her eyes widening in shock.
She could feel the trembling in his hand.
The boy was tense, on edge, dangerous, but also unstable.
Her heart skipped as she forced herself to calm down.
Slowly, she nodded.
The boy hesitated, then carefully pulled his hand away from her mouth, though the blade remained at her throat.
His blue eyes narrowed.
"Where am I? Who are you? And how do I get out of here?"
Asia turned slowly, facing him now, pouting just a little, and said softly.
"You shouldn't be doing that to others. It's really mean, you know."
The boy blinked, caught off guard.
For a moment, his hardened expression faltered.
"W-What…?"
But he quickly shook his head, tightening his grip on the small blade.
"Quit stalling, kid. Answer me. Now. Or I'll hurt you. Badly."
His voice was sharp, filled with the hollow threat of someone who had seen too much to take any chances.
Asia sighed lightly, as though dealing with a stubborn child.
"You're the one who's acting like a kid. You should at least try to be nicer when asking questions."
She said gently, as if scolding him.
The boy's eye twitched in annoyance.
"Do you not understand the situation right now?"
He pressed the blade closer to her neck, though his hand shook slightly.
"I'm the one with the weapon. If you don't want to get hurt, you'd better answer me!"
The two locked eyes, the air thick with tension as they stared each other down.
Asia's calm gaze against the boy's desperate glare.
Neither backed down, the silence stretching on.
"Hahaha."
A low chuckle came from the doorway.
"Well, ain't this adorable. Are you two gonna kiss or what?"
Both of them flinched.
Asia's face turned red instantly, her eyes darting to the source of the voice.
Leaning against the doorframe was Arthur, arms crossed, a sly smirk tugging at his lips.
The boy's expression hardened.
In an instant, he yanked Asia back against him, pressing the blade firmly against her neck as he glared at Arthur.
His breath was heavy, his eyes still sharp with hostility.
"Stay right there, exorcist scum!"
The boy barked, glaring at Arthur with nothing but hatred in his eyes.
"One step closer and I swear I'll cut her throat!"
Arthur raised both hands casually, unfazed, his expression calm.
"Easy there, kid. No need to go full dramatics this early in the morning. I was just coming in to see if you wanted break-."
"Shut up!"
The boy snapped, pulling Asia back slightly.
"You think I don't know what you people are? You're all the same! Priests, exorcists, lapdogs of the Church. All of you with your cursed Holy Swords… you're nothing but monsters in human skin!"
Arthur tilted his head, sighing softly as if this wasn't the first time he'd heard such words.
"So I'm a monster now, huh? I guess I've been called worse."
"Stop acting like you don't care!"
The boy roared, his voice cracking, equal parts anger and pain.
"You all deserve to burn for what you did! For what happened to me!"
Asia, despite the blade at her throat, had her eyes wide with concern rather than fear.
She glanced at Arthur, then at her 'captor', her voice soft but concerned.
"Please… you don't have to hurt anyone. I don't want anyone to fight."
The boy pressed his lips together tightly, his grip trembling.
He wanted to yell again, but the calmness in her tone threw him off.
Arthur took a cautious step closer, his voice steady.
"Look, kid… I get it. You hate me for being an Exorcist. I'm cool with that. But Asia?"
He motioned to Asia with his chin.
"She's got nothing to do with your personal grudge. You're just scaring someone who helped tend to your wounds."
The boy's eyes twitched with conflict, but his glare remained locked on Arthur.
"Then throw your Holy Sword at the floor right now! That thing doesn't deserve to exist. None of them do!"
He barked suddenly.
Arthur blinked once, then tilted his head.
"My sword? That's what this is about?"
"You heard me!"
The boy snapped, his voice hoarse.
"Give it up, and I'll destroy it! Every single one of those damned swords should be reduced to ash! They're evil! They... they took everything from me!"
Asia's curiosity got the better of her as she spoke carefully, even with the blade so close.
"Why… do you hate Holy Swords so much? What did they do to you?"
Arthur let out a small breath and lowered his hands.
"Asia, I know the reason why. In fact, I even know who he is. Gramps told me about him last night."
The boy stiffened.
"You-"
Arthur continued, his tone quieter, almost sympathetic now.
"Isaiah, an orphan who was part of the Holy Sword Project that was dismantled a couple of months ago. That nightmare Valper Galilei and his lackeys ran."
The boy froze, his jaw clenching, his eyes widening slightly in shock.
His grip on Asia faltered just a little.
Arthur's gaze didn't leave him.
"I also know about what they did to you. About the kids who got taken in. About the experiments. About how most of you… who barely made it out alive."
His voice dipped with regret.
"And we... I... didn't do a damn thing to stop it. I was away on my one-year journey when it all happened. Maybe that's an excuse, maybe it isn't… but the truth is, I'm sorry."
Isaiah's chest heaved, his anger wavering against the weight of Arthur's words.
For a moment, he almost looked like he didn't know what to say.
"You… you knew..."
He muttered bitterly.
"And you still stand there with that accursed sword in your hands? You're no different from them. You let it happen. You let us suffer!"
Asia finally spoke again, her soft voice breaking the tense air.
"So that's why you hate Holy Swords."
Isaiah bit his lip, his eyes burning.
"They're cursed! Every last one of them! They turned us into lab rats, toys to be broken and thrown away. Because of those swords, my friends died screaming! Because of those swords, I-"
His voice cracked, and his grip trembled violently.
"-I had to watch them suffer and die like they were nothing!"
Asia's eyes watered, but Arthur's face remained calm, almost solemn.
He finally spoke, his voice firmer now.
"Isaiah. Let me ask you something. Whose to blame for what happened to you? The swords… or the priest who ordered them to be used that way?"
Isaiah blinked, caught off guard.
"What-what kind of question is that?!"
"It's a simple one."
Arthur replied evenly.
"If a murderer kills someone with a gun, do you blame the gun? Or the man who pulled the trigger?"
Isaiah stuttered, his throat dry.
"T-That's-"
"You're wasting your rage pointing it at a long piece of sharp metal."
Arthur continued, his tone heavy with conviction.
"A sword doesn't think on its own. A sword doesn't choose who or what it cuts down. It's the hands that wield it that decide what it becomes. And right now? You're letting yourself drown in hate for something that was never alive in the first place."
Isaiah's teeth clenched, his whole body trembling.
"You don't get it…! If it weren't for those swords-"
Arthur cut in sharply, his eyes narrowing.
"If it weren't for Valper Galilei and the lunatics who followed him, you and your friends wouldn't have gone through hell. You think they'd have stopped at swords? No. They'd have used anything else. It wasn't the weapons, Isaiah. It was the monsters holding them."
For the first time since Arthur entered, Isaiah fell silent.
His blade lowered a fraction.
Asia, seizing the chance, placed her hand gently on Isaiah's arm.
"Arthur's right."
She muttered.
"You shouldn't blame yourself… or the swords. Your friends wouldn't want you to hate yourself like this."
Isaiah's lip quivered, and his eyes glossed with tears he didn't want to show.
"Umm... I know this is sudden, but can you please let me go? I have to help grandpa with preparing the table."
Isaiah was silent.
But after a minute of silence, he pushed Asia away softly, no longer able to keep the blade up.
She stepped aside, relieved, and gave Isaiah a small bow before excusing herself.
"Thank you, Isaiah. I'll be going now. Please don't fight."
She left the room quietly, leaving the two alone.
The silence lingered for a while.
Arthur slowly walked over and sat down on the edge of the bed, patting the space beside him.
"Sit beside me, kid. Unless you plan to stab me in the back, in which case… at least try to aim straight."
Isaiah glared at him, but after a moment of hesitation, he sat stiffly at the farthest edge of the bed, his hands balled into fists.
Arthur leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
His voice softened.
"Why don't you tell me your side? All of it. I'll listen and won't judge. And I promise, I'll keep this between us."
Isaiah stayed quiet, staring at the floor.
For a long moment, it seemed he wouldn't answer, but then, with a shaky breath, he began.
"...We were just kids. Orphans, all of us. Valper came with the priests and told us we were offered a great chance for a better future. We thought… we thought it was a miracle. A chance to be worth something."
His voice shook as he went on.
"But it was all a lie. Day after day, we were tested, abused, injected, drowned, electrocuted, just to see if we could adapt to those damned blades. My friends… one by one, they broke. Their screams… their eyes… I can't forget them."
Arthur listened in silence, his face unreadable, but his hands tightened slightly.
Isaiah clenched his fists tighter, his nails digging into his palms.
"I survived... Not because I was strong, but because my friends sacrificed themselves to let me escape. And I hate that... I hate that they're gone, and I'm still here. I hate that I couldn't save them. And I hate that sword. I hate all of them."
His voice cracked with a sob.
"They're cursed. They should all be destroyed."
Arthur finally spoke, his tone firm but not unkind.
"No. What should be destroyed is Valper. And people like him."
Isaiah looked at him with wet eyes, trembling.
Arthur leaned back, letting out a small sigh.
"Listen, I'm not saying don't take revenge. Honestly? People like him deserve what's coming. But your friends… do you really think they'd want you to waste your life burning everything down? Or would they want you to live? To find something after the hate runs dry?"
Isaiah went quiet.
His tears fell freely now, but he didn't sob.
He just sat there, shoulders shaking, as Arthur stood.
"I'm not telling you to forgive. Or to forget. That's your choice. But think about it, Isaiah. Once Valper dies and your vengeance is over, what will you have left? If you don't figure that out, you'll just end up another weapon someone else picks up and uses."
Isaiah couldn't answer. His chest ached with emotions he couldn't untangle.
Arthur opened the door and paused, glancing back with a faint, tired smile.
"Come downstairs when you're ready. Gramps and I made enough to feed an entire family. You should clean yourself up, too."
Then he left, closing the door behind him.
Isaiah sat there on the bed, his fists trembling, his thoughts a storm.
(That guy… who the hell is he? Why does he talk like he understands…?)
He stared at the floor, silent, as Arthur's words lingered in his mind.
DxD
The dining room of Arthur's new mansion was filled with the warm aroma of food and the soft chatter of voices.
Cao Cao leaned back in his chair, a fork in one hand and a satisfied grin tugging at his lips as he chewed.
"I have to admit, I'm liking this new place. Didn't think I'd be waking up to a full English breakfast in a mansion of all things."
He waved his fork lazily, gesturing around at the luxurious dining room.
Georg, sitting beside him, adjusted his glasses as he reached for some toast.
"Odd indeed. The fact that Arthur of all people has a mansion now is… well, unexpected. Especially since none of us saw this coming. Leave it to Dulio to arrange something like this."
Heracles let out a hearty laugh through a mouth full of eggs and bacon.
"Not just the mansion. He even gave us rooms to stay in. I'll admit, for a weirdo, Dulio really knows how to take care of people."
He tore off another strip of bacon without hesitation.
Dulio, who was casually munching on a pastry he had brought with him from town, chuckled at the comments.
"What can I say? I like looking out for my junior and his friends. Besides, someone has to make sure you lot don't starve to death while chasing after trouble all the time."
"True enough."
Siegfried's voice came from the entrance.
He and Jeanne stepped inside, Siegfried's long white hair tied back and his sharp gaze sweeping across the room.
Jeanne smiled warmly, offering a soft wave.
"Good morning, guys. Smells wonderful in here."
Jeanne greeted.
As the two found seats at the far end of the table, Jeanne looked around curiously.
"Where are the others?"
Connla, who was already halfway through his plate, spoke up between bites.
"Arthur's still in the kitchen. He's cooking more food with Asia and old man Vasco. Lavinia went to wake up Leonardo, and Valerie's still asleep upstairs. Probably won't get up for a while."
"Figures."
Georg muttered as he reached for the teapot.
A few moments later, the sound of footsteps approached.
The door swung open, and in came Arthur, balancing a tray stacked with more plates of food.
Behind him, Asia followed with a smaller tray of tea, while Vasco Strada brought in the heaviest load.
"Breakfast is served. Though, credit where it's due, Gramps did most of the work. I just helped with the timing."
Arthur announced, setting the trays down in the center of the table.
Asia beamed softly as she carefully set down her tray.
"Please, everyone, eat as much as you like."
Vasco laughed as he took a seat near Arthur.
"Hahahahaha! Don't let him fool you, lads. The boy wanted to take the wheel the whole time. But I thought, well, why not? Been a long time since I cooked for this many. Good way to see if I still had the touch."
"You've got more than just the touch, old man. Not bad at all."
Siegfried commented as he sampled one of the grilled tomatoes.
The mood in the dining room grew lively as conversations overlapped, the sound of cutlery clinking against plates, laughter echoing here and there, and occasional teasing remarks being thrown back and forth.
Soon, Lavinia entered, tugging a half-asleep Leonardo by the arm.
The boy rubbed his eyes and slumped into a chair with a groggy groan, muttering something about wanting to go back to bed.
Lavinia only smiled, patting his head before sitting down herself next to Arthur.
It was then that the room went quiet for a moment as another presence appeared at the doorway.
Everyone looked as Isaiah stood there, silent and uncertain, his blue eyes lowered to the floor as though unsure if he even belonged; his posture was tense, wary.
Arthur immediately noticed.
He offered a small, welcoming smile and gestured to an empty seat next to Asia.
"Morning, Isaiah. Come on, sit down. There's plenty."
Isaiah hesitated, his hands balling into fists at his sides.
For a moment, it looked like he would turn and leave.
But then, almost reluctantly, he stepped forward and slid into the chair beside Asia.
He avoided everyone's eyes, staring at his plate instead.
Asia, sitting to his right, turned toward him with her usual gentle expression.
Isaiah's lips moved almost too quietly to hear, but eventually, he muttered,
"...Sorry."
The table fell silent for a beat.
Asia blinked at him, then smiled softly and shook her head.
"It's okay. Really. I understand why you did it."
Isaiah froze, his throat tightening.
He had half expected her to scold him, to lash out, or at least look at him with fear, but instead, she had given him forgiveness so easily.
His gaze dropped again, and he didn't reply.
He simply picked up his fork and began to eat in silence.
The others exchanged glances.
Siegfried arched a brow but said nothing.
Jeanne only smiled faintly, though her eyes lingered on Isaiah with curiosity.
Breaking the silence, Vasco cleared his throat and turned to Arthur.
"Arthur, after we finish breakfast, we need to have a word. About matters relating to your group and… you know who."
His eyes flicked subtly toward Isaiah before returning to his plate.
Arthur gave a slight nod, acknowledging the unspoken meaning.
"Understood."
For now, though, he let the tension rest.
He reached for a piece of bread and leaned back in his chair, the hum of conversation starting up again as everyone returned to their food.
Isaiah sat silently among them, chewing slowly, his mind racing with thoughts he couldn't quite sort.
He kept stealing glances at Arthur from the corner of his eye, wondering who exactly this man was and why he treated him as though he wasn't just a broken survivor of Valper's madness.
And for the first time in a long while, Isaiah wasn't sure if he should keep running... or stay and listen.
DxD
hELLO rEADERS!
hERE'S aNOTHER cHAPTER!
aND bEFORE yOU aSK, i dID tHIS oN pURPOSE bECAUSE i wAS bORED.
tHANK yOU, eVERYONE, aND sEE yOU lATER!