On the surface, the world of High School DxD looked ordinary—peaceful, even. But peel back the facade, and you'd find demons, angels, fallen angels, fairies, vampires—all the creatures of legend, alive and dangerous.
Humans made up the numbers, but it was the devils and gods who truly ruled. Most people lived their entire lives oblivious, praying to powers they'd never understand, making deals they couldn't comprehend, dying as they'd lived—in blissful ignorance.
If Tenra were just another bystander, maybe ignorance would be a mercy. But he'd lived two lives, and that meant he saw through the lies. This world was a masquerade—dangerous, deadly, and unforgiving. Ordinary humans were fragile, breakable, and so easily swept aside.
Angels and devils never stopped fighting. They simply rewrote human memories, keeping the peace nothing but an illusion. Only those with power glimpsed the truth.
Thrown into this world, Tenra refused to be ordinary. He wasn't about to get snuffed out by some stray devil on a bad day. Besides, as a half-demon, half-human, he'd never fit into the background anyway.
If he couldn't be normal, then he'd be extraordinary.
No magic talent? Fine—he'd hone his body until it was steel. No demonic power? He'd master spiritual energy instead.
Ever since his mother died and left him to fend for himself, Tenra pushed himself every single day.
Grand dreams and distant futures? Too abstract. For now, there was only one goal: get stronger.
Most ten-year-olds spent their days at school, carefree and clueless. Tenra didn't have that luxury. Outside of eating, sleeping, and the occasional grocery run, he devoted every waking moment to sword practice in the courtyard—training, sweating, growing.
In his previous life, he'd been a nobody. But reborn into a world this dangerous—and this thrilling—he had ambitions. Big ones.
To reach them, he needed power. Real power.
He wrapped his practice sword in cloth, slung it over his shoulder, and stepped out the door. Training alone would only take him so far. He needed guidance—someone to push him further.
"Mom, I'm heading to the park!"
A boy burst from the Hyoudou house next door, a chunk of bread clamped between his teeth as he dashed past Tenra.
Tenra's eyes narrowed, a flicker of something unreadable passing through. Who'd ever guess that this completely average kid was the chosen protagonist of this world?
Issei Hyoudou. The main character himself.
As Issei zipped by, Tenra felt a restless stirring deep inside. Not nerves, not envy—something else. The artifact within him was waking up.
Sacred Gear Plunder—the mysterious gift forced into his soul by that shadowy stranger. The power to steal any Sacred Gear, just by wanting it.
No awakening required, no practice needed. If Tenra wished, he could rip a Sacred Gear straight from its host and make it his own. As natural as breathing.
It didn't have any direct offensive power, but make no mistake—this was a terrifying ability.
No magic, no Phoenix bloodline, but Tenra never felt weak. This was his ace, his secret weapon.
With a power like this, and the knowledge of two lifetimes, all he had to do was not get cocky and keep grinding. Strength would come.
Even now, the Sacred Gear inside him pulsed with excitement. He forced it down.
Issei carried one of the highest-tier Sacred Gears—Boosted Gear. Tenra had his eye on it for years. Four years ago, after his mother died, he'd made his first attempt.
Sacred Gear Plunder worked flawlessly. He'd pulled Boosted Gear out of Issei without resistance. But just as victory seemed certain, the energy flooding from the gauntlet nearly tore him apart.
Raw, violent power—enough to shatter him from the inside.
He'd let go just in time, but the backlash left him half-dead. If he hadn't managed to use Phoenix Tears on himself, he wouldn't have survived.
It was almost funny. That failure taught Tenra exactly how weak he was. Power was right there, but he couldn't hold it.
After that, training became his obsession. If he wanted power, he'd have to earn it first.
The weak didn't deserve strength.
The Kamiyo and Hyoudou families were neighbors, but barely spoke. Tenra and Issei weren't close—by design. Tenra planned to take Issei's Sacred Gear someday. No point getting attached and feeling guilty later.
Their brief encounter passed without incident. Tenra continued on, passing the Hyoudou house, until he reached another home.
Knock, knock, knock.
After a moment, the door opened. A tall man in priest's robes looked out.
"Uncle Shidou, sorry for dropping by again."
Tenra greeted him politely.
The man smiled, warm and familiar. "Tenra, good to see you. Come in."
This was routine by now. Shidou knew why Tenra came, so he led the way inside without further comment.
Tenra followed, but barely made it into the courtyard before a blur tackled him.
"Tenra, you're here!"
He hit the ground, rolling a couple of times before finding himself pinned under a girl.
Chestnut hair, bright purple eyes, and a smile that could light up a room. Young, but already striking—and those lively eyes made her impossible to ignore.
"Irina, you know you're a girl, right? Maybe don't just sit on boys like it's nothing?"
Flat on his back, Tenra couldn't help but sigh.
Irina grinned, completely unfazed. "It's fine, because it's you!"
"Tenra, I practiced extra hard yesterday! Let's spar again—I'm not losing this time!"
She bounced to her feet, drawing her sword with a look of pure determination.
"I-I wasn't slacking off either! Hmph, this time I'm taking you down!"
"Alright, alright... Show me what you've got, Miss Irina. Ready? Here I come!"
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