In his previous life, Tenra had watched High School DxD—anime and novels both. The details had faded over the years, but the important pieces stuck, and after talking with Valerie and Gaspar, half-forgotten memories came rushing back.
Valerie possessed the legendary Sacred Gear: [Sephiroth Graal]. Not a true holy relic, but close enough—it could heal any wound, even resurrect the dead. One of the Longinus-class Sacred Gears, a power that could overturn the very order of life itself.
To say Tenra wasn't tempted would be a lie. Right now, Valerie hadn't awakened the Sacred Gear's power. This was, in theory, the perfect moment to seize it. But reason held him back. If he tried to take the [Sephiroth Graal] now, the only thing waiting for him was death by magical overload.
Even with all his strength, a Longinus-class Sacred Gear would tear him apart.
So, realistically, there was only one viable target: Gaspar.
Gaspar already wielded his Sacred Gear: [Forbidden Balor View]. Its power could freeze time itself for anything within his line of sight—but Gaspar was too weak to control it, and its abilities often ran wild.
That was secondary. The important thing was, [Forbidden Balor View] wasn't a Longinus. Its level was just right for Tenra's current abilities.
Still, there was a complication. Others might not know, but Tenra remembered: Gaspar wasn't just any half-blood vampire. He was the reincarnation of a fragment of the demon god Balor's consciousness.
The god's divinity was long gone, but slivers of Balor's will and magic still slept inside Gaspar. If Tenra tried to rip the Sacred Gear out by force and woke that fragment, the consequences… even he didn't dare imagine.
So, brute force was out. If he wanted [Forbidden Balor View], he'd have to be clever.
Tenra stood by the window, exhaling slowly, rubbing his temples. Whether it was stealing the Sacred Gear or escaping this place, he needed a plan.
—
The next few days passed in a strange peace. Tenra settled into the castle's rhythm—training when he could, exploring with Valerie and Gaspar when boredom struck. If you ignored the whole "prisoner" thing, life was almost comfortable.
Herbert and his gang tried to get revenge at first. After a few more beatings, they learned their lesson. Now, everyone kept to themselves—a tense but stable truce.
All the half-blood vampires here, including Valerie and Gaspar, were outcasts. If they'd been purebloods, they'd be home, learning the ins and outs of vampire society. But with "dirty" human blood in their veins, they were locked up and forgotten.
Half-bloods didn't need blood to live—they could get by on human food. The castle's storerooms were well-stocked; as long as you were willing to cook, you wouldn't starve.
Still, every so often, the outside families sent in new humans for the little vampires to feed on. It wasn't necessary, but maybe the elders thought it was too shameful for their children not to drink blood. So the ritual continued.
Compared to the rest, Valerie and Gaspar were true outsiders. They'd never tasted human blood. Whenever the others fed, they'd stand aside, muttering, "That's awful," "So cruel," "How disgusting." The others labeled them freaks. Add in their gentle, timid natures, and they were easy targets for bullies—at least until Tenra arrived.
He remembered coming back from training one day, only to find them being harassed again. He'd stepped in without thinking, scattering the bullies. The look on Valerie and Gaspar's faces—disbelief, confusion—stuck with him.
He hated to admit it, but seeing them like that made something twist inside his chest. Maybe it was the first time anyone had ever stood up for them.
After that, their fear of him faded, replaced by something else. Day by day, wherever he went, they'd follow. Tenra never said a word; he just let them.
—
"Gaspar, Gaspar—please, snap out of it!"
"Uuuh… don't come near me! Stay away!"
That night, Tenra had just finished his bath and was about to sleep when Valerie and Gaspar's voices drifted in from the next room.
He frowned, pulled on a shirt, and stepped outside.
"Valerie, what's going on?"
He found Gaspar curled in a corner, clutching his head and sobbing. Valerie hovered nearby, helpless and frantic.
"Lord Tenra, Gaspar—he… I…"
She tried to explain, but her words tangled up in panic. Tenra didn't bother waiting. He walked straight to Gaspar.
"Don't come near me!" Gaspar shrieked, looking up. His crimson eyes glowed with a sinister light, and the instant Tenra met his gaze, his body locked up—frozen by an unseen force. By the time he shook it off, Gaspar was huddled in the opposite corner, crying harder than ever.
"I didn't mean to! I didn't mean to!"
Tenra understood instantly.
[Forbidden Balor View].
Even knowing what to expect, feeling that power firsthand rattled him. For a split second, he'd been utterly helpless—a prisoner of Gaspar's Sacred Gear.
No doubt about it: Gaspar had lost control again. But in Tenra's eyes, a cold light flickered. This was it. The opportunity he'd been waiting for.
He knelt down, voice gentle. "Gaspar, do you hate your Sacred Gear's power?"
Gaspar sobbed, "I hate it—I hate it the most! This cursed power… if it weren't for it, everyone wouldn't hate me, Father wouldn't hate me, I wouldn't have to see everyone frozen like that again—!"
Tears streamed down his face. Tenra let him cry. He knew how vampires viewed Sacred Gear wielders—pariahs, monsters. Gaspar thought it was the Gear that made everyone hate him. He didn't know the real reason. Tenra had no plans to tell him, not now. He needed [Forbidden Balor View]—and this was his moment.
Tenra reached out, gently brushing Gaspar's forehead.
"If you hate your Sacred Gear that much… then give it to me."
~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~
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