Note to self: never trust fanfics again.
According to one I read, all I had to do was wander into some random temple and—boom!—a legendary weapon would choose me and I'd become overpowered in record time.
Turns out, every damn temple has a Yokai guardian. And by "guardian," I mean monster with a bad attitude and a fetish for chasing off morons like me.
I hate Japan.
"Akeno, do you know anything about spatial magic?"
I was sprawled across one of the clubroom's sofas, flipping through a book on Sacred Gears that I "borrowed" from the library. Technically, I was on a short leave from school, thanks to some excuse Rias pulled out of her demonic behind. Originally, I was supposed to use that time to find a way to level up.
Spoiler: I didn't.
So, it's time to change tactics.
What if, instead of brute-forcing my way to power, I lured a big-shot supernatural entity to me using spatial magic? Let them notice me, get curious, and then—boom again—I mooch off their resources.
Especially Azazel. That guy is like the wet dream of every reincarnated character.
Oh, right. I was talking to Akeno.
She blinked, clearly taken aback by my question. It seems no one expects me to talk about magic theory.
Disappointing, really.
"W-Well, Issei-kun," she replied, placing a stack of papers on Rias's desk-slash-secret-manga-hiding-spot. "I know the theory, but I've never practiced it. Spatial magic is difficult… even for me."
"Hm… guess I'll have to ask Buchou, then."
"You are absolutely unqualified to use spatial magic."
Rias didn't even look up from the contract she was reading. I, on the other hand, continued flipping through my book like her opinion didn't matter—which, for the record, it didn't.
Either way, I was getting what I wanted tonight. I had recently sealed a contract with a "magical girl" ripped straight out of JoJo's Bizarre Adventure, and there was a high chance I'd finally meet Azazel this evening.
My eyes drifted over to Rias.
"Buchou," I said calmly, "I take it the contract you're looking over so intensely is for me, right?"
Her reaction was priceless.
She flinched, clearly not expecting me to catch on. I mean, come on—she kept glancing at me and then back at the contract, muttering things like "I'm not sure he's ready." Add to that the fact that I was specifically requested instead of any other peerage member?
Yeah. It's Azazel, alright.
"Someone could see you"
Bullshit. If I have wings, I'm using them.
What the hell is the point of being a demon if I can't show up at windows dramatically flapping my wings like a B-movie villain?
But nooo, the magical girl contractor insisted I be discreet. Something about keeping a low profile.
Still, I summoned my wings and pedaled my bike up to the rooftop of a tall building. I parked it there like a proper law-abiding citizen before gliding down to the appropriate window.
Knock knock.
"Gremory Demon Services~," I called out with the most forced cheerful tone I could muster.
The window opened.
I stepped in and saw my contractor—an older guy with the weirdest haircut I've ever seen. Like, dude, if you're going to bleach only your bangs, just go all the way or don't bother.
"You seem bothered by my appearance," he said.
"I'm not," I replied flatly, waving it off.
He sat down on the living room couch, eyes analyzing me like I was a lab rat. Typical behavior from this Sacred Gear nerd.
"Would you like to discuss the contract?" I asked politely, pretending to care.
He smiled.
"Actually, I just wanted some company."
...
What.
"That's it?" I asked, deadpan.
He nodded.
Sighing, I plopped down on the couch across from him. "Bring out the whiskey, old man."
"…and that's how I discovered my breast fetish."
I ended my story with the kind of serene composure you'd expect from a monk describing enlightenment.
Azazel—yes, that Azazel—burst into laughter. We'd just killed our seventh bottle of whiskey and were well into our eighth. I'd say I was drunk, but demon physiology makes that nearly impossible. All I had was a faint buzz and a burning desire to keep talking nonsense.
"You're something else, Demon-kun."
"Call me Issei," I said, pointing at him. "And for the love of Lucifer, drop the honorifics. It's weird."
He laughed again, but the atmosphere suddenly shifted.
"Issei."
I couldn't move.
My body froze under the crushing weight of his aura. It was suffocating—my limbs locked up, and my instincts screamed danger.
Azazel's eyes were sharp. Focused. His hand moved toward my chest.
"There are two of you in there," he murmured. "Know why, Demon-kun?"
I managed to shake my head weakly.
He leaned back, and the pressure vanished like it was never there.
"What… what was that?" I gasped, gulping down air.
"Ah, that? Just me letting a bit of power leak out. Sorry if I overdid it."
No, you smug bastard, you nearly gave me a heart attack.
Still, this wasn't outside my expectations. Honestly, I needed answers, and he was the best person to give them.
"Y-You know what's happening to me?"
Azazel swirled the liquor in his glass.
"Your case is simple, yet fascinating. You've got two souls in your body."
I raised an eyebrow.
"One is half-demon, not particularly special. The other is entirely human… and it houses a Sacred Gear."
That… explains a lot. Also confirms I'm not a unique anomaly, which is both comforting and mildly disappointing.
"Is it dangerous?"
"Not really. Eventually, the souls will merge. The catch? The conditions could be incredibly specific—or so many that it'd take centuries."
Of course.
I squeezed my thigh under the table, trying to appear shaken. Hopefully, my performance was convincing.
"You're Azazel, aren't you?"
"Obviously, Demon-kun."
Time to gamble.
"I need your help, Azazel-sama."
I bowed my head slightly, hiding the grin spreading across my lips.
"Since my reincarnation, I've felt… hollow. Like part of me vanished. Maybe something went wrong with the Evil Piece. Maybe that's why my soul split."
I looked up, eyes resolute.
"That's why this low-class demon begs for your help."
He chuckled.
"I'll help."
Yes! One less problem on my list.
"In exchange, you'll let me study your soul."
I nodded. Honestly, not a bad deal. If anyone could know the truth about me not being from this world and react logically, it'd be him.
"Th-Thank you, Azazel-sama."
Time to push further.
My magic reserves were... improving. Koneko once told me it used to be a droplet—now, it's a glassful. Still not great, but manageable.
I've been pushing myself. Overusing spells just to stretch my limits. Peeling potatoes with magic isn't glamorous, but damn if it doesn't help.
Mental enhancement spells have been a game-changer too. I can run hundreds of calculations in less than a second. Though overusing it gives me a headache.
I grounded myself back in the moment, rubbing my temple.
"Actually… if it's not too much trouble, may I ask for something?"
Azazel tilted his head. Clearly, he expected this.
"I was wondering if you had any intermediate or advanced magic theory books. Buchou won't let me touch anything above basic level…"
I trailed off awkwardly, unsure how he'd take the request.
But from the smirk on his face, I could tell he was going to say yes.
I was in Azazel's lab now, watching him fiddle with half a dozen screens filled with graphs and glowing diagrams.
I couldn't understand half of it, but one thing was clear—this wasn't normal science.
"The soul didn't split," he muttered. "It's more like… another one appeared out of nowhere."
Great. More existential crises.
While he did his thing, I flipped through the books he lent me.
Mana, apparently, is generated from the soul's vibrations and flows through three magical cores: heart, stomach, and brain.
Heart = raw power.
Stomach = control.
Brain = form.
High-level mages can make any core do all three, but that takes divine-level talent. Or sheer stubbornness.
Guess which one I have?
I also skimmed some chapters on magic circles—not really my thing. I'm not trying to be some long-distance glass cannon. I want to punch things.
Hard.
"Hyoudou. Catch."
Azazel tossed something at me. It hit me square in the face.
I grunted, grabbing it off the floor. It was a smooth crystal sphere, glowing with swirling mana lines inside.
"What the hell is this?"
"Twice Critical. Swallow it."
I froze.
What.
"Why are you giving me a Sacred Gear? Don't I already have one?"
I swallowed it anyway. Let's not look a gift horse in the mouth.
"That one's stuck in your dormant soul. I'm giving you this because it might synergize with the Longinus."
He turned one of his screens toward me.
Two images appeared—both were me.
One was white, with the iconic red gauntlet on its left arm.
The other was crimson, plain.
"That's the Boosted Gear?" I pointed.
"Pretty cool, right? And completely inaccessible to you."
"Screw you."
He laughed.
"Now, how do I activate this thing?" I asked, staring at my arm.
He pointed a finger at me.
A bolt of blue energy shot from his fingertip and slammed into my chest.
I choked, feeling something churn in my gut, then surge toward my right hand.
"What the hell—!?"
Then I heard it.
[BOOST!]
A bright white glow burst from my hand.
There it was. A silver knuckle-duster embedded with a pulsing gem.
My very own Twice Critical.
Finally… progress.