"Ugh… ow, ow, ow…"
It took ages for Matsuda, Motohama, and Issei Hyoudou to finally drag themselves off the ground, each one wincing and rubbing at bruises that still throbbed from their encounter with the kendo club's resident tigresses.
Those girls were merciless.
"Ma-Matsuda, why are you staring at me like that?"
Motohama shrank back, arms crossed protectively over his chest—a gesture so uncharacteristically feminine he didn't even notice.
"Heh… hehehe… Motohama, I never realized before, but you're actually kind of cute."
Matsuda's cheeks colored with a bashful flush, his voice shy.
Motohama froze. Normally, he'd have booted this creep across the yard. But instead, a strange cocktail of excitement and happiness bubbled up inside him.
"Matsuda, you're… you're pretty handsome too."
"Mo-Motohama, can I see your… your chest?"
"Uh, sure, but only if I get to see yours in return."
"Deal!"
Issei gaped at them, horror-struck.
Right in front of him, Matsuda and Motohama were actually tearing at each other's shirts, giggling as they tried to sneak a peek.
What the hell was happening?! Had the whole world gone mad?
Worse, Issei realized with mounting panic that instead of disgust, he felt a weird, fluttering thrill in his gut…
—
Night fell at the Kamiyo residence.
"Ahh…"
Raynare's eyes rolled back in bliss as she collapsed, utterly spent.
Tenra lay amidst a tangle of exhausted bodies—Tosca, Raynare, and Yubelluna—savoring the intoxicating satisfaction of conquest.
After a brief rest, he tucked the three women under the covers, slipped into the bathroom for a shower, and pulled on a robe before settling at his desk.
With a shimmer of light, a thick tome materialized—the Codex of Divinitas et Diabolus.
Asia's arrival had lit a fire under Tenra to finish the Codex. If he was going to recruit followers and build his own faction, this book would be indispensable.
The main framework was already done, but Tenra was a perfectionist. If he was going to do this, he'd do it right. Every detail needed to be flawless.
He alternated between deep contemplation and furious scribbling, weighing every word, every phrase. Under his relentless revision, the Codex grew ever more refined.
He'd modeled the structure after the Bible—besides brainwashing doctrines and sacred edicts, the Codex included tales of "God." Most of these stories were drawn from Tenra's own near-death adventures, though in the Codex, they were polished and mythologized to a shine.
He wasn't writing bedtime stories; he wanted believers to yearn for God, to praise Him, to make faith their anchor and example. The stories were a tool—another layer of indoctrination.
And since the "God" in question was himself, Tenra felt no need for humility. He painted the divine in the Sacred Scripture as radiant and magnificent, while the Demonic Scripture's version was shadowy and formidable.
Then inspiration struck—he could give his followers a direct image of their deity. Tenra's pen flew across the page:
God as the Red Dragon Emperor!
God as the White Dragon Emperor!
God wielding the Sword of Light!
God in Susanoo's armor!
God as…
He used his own face as the template, blending in every Sacred Gear transformation he'd mastered. The resulting illustrations were dazzling—Tenra couldn't help but nod in approval. Compared to the stodgy old God of the Bible, he was in a league of his own.
Little did Tenra know, this creative flourish would later spark a recruitment fiasco that would leave him laughing and crying at once…
—
The next few days passed in a tranquil routine. During class, Tenra passed notes to his girls; after school, he coached the kendo club's swordplay. Every night, he indulged in Yubelluna, Raynare, and Tosca before returning to perfect the Codex.
Asia hadn't contacted him since their first meeting, but Tenra wasn't worried. The protective blessing he'd left on her would trigger if she was in danger, and so far, nothing had happened.
But tonight—
"Rias, what's up? Why'd you suddenly call us here?"
A swirling portal of light opened in the Occult Research Club, and Tenra, Raynare, and Yubelluna stepped out.
They'd already eaten and were winding down for the evening when Rias's urgent message summoned them. Tenra's expression was pure annoyance, which only made Rias bristle. Akeno, ever the peacemaker, smiled and went to brew tea.
"You haven't made a single contract with a human since you arrived in the human world, have you?"
Rias's tone was cool, but there was steel beneath it.
"I've got zero interest in that kind of thing. And let's be honest, even if I did, humans couldn't offer me anything I actually want."
Tenra shrugged, unimpressed.
"This isn't about what you want—it's your duty!"
Rias glared, exasperated.
Devil contracts—the business of trading wish fulfillment for human payment—were the backbone of most devils' work in the human world. For someone with the Gremory family's wealth, Rias didn't need to bother with such trivialities. But as she said, it wasn't about profit; it was about responsibility.
After the ancient Great War, both angels and devils had been decimated, forced to rely on humans to survive. Angels had it easy—humans adored them, and reincarnation as an angel was an honor. Devils, though? Their reputation was pure evil. Who'd choose to become a devil over an angel?
So the Underworld had changed tactics. Through contracts—devils fulfilling human wishes for a price—they'd slowly reshaped their image, making devils less feared and more accepted.
It was working. These days, Rias and her peers could hand out flyers for devil contracts on the street without anyone batting an eye.
"Requests are piling up. We're swamped. You and your servants are helping, whether you like it or not."
Rias slapped a stack of request forms onto the table, leaving no room for argument.
Tenra sighed, surrendering with a raised hand.
"Fine, fine… I get it. We'll help."
~~~~❃❃~~~~~~~~❃❃~~~~
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