It wasn't as simple as he first thought.
Satoru stared at the system panel, frowning.
Using shortcuts like arm wrestling wouldn't work. Neither would endlessly grinding by bullying some "experience baby."
The truth was clear—if he wanted new Traits, he had to fight real opponents.The system was clear about one thing traits only came from real battles against opponents with strength or significance.
"Let's try a kendo dojo."
Leaving school, Satoru Mikami located a nearby dojo and quietly activated his money ability.
Two million yen was enough to "challenge" everyone there. He sparred with student after student, then the instructors. Finally, only after forcing the dojo master himself to step into the ring and defeating him did the reward appear before Satoru's eyes.
[Don't Bully the Poor Middle-Aged (White): sword training effectiveness increased by 10%.]
"…So that's how it works."
Satoru wiped sweat from his chin, his expression calm but thoughtful. "It seems only by defeating characters of importance—or powerhouses with a certain level of strength—can I obtain Traits."
The puzzle was slowly becoming clearer.
By the time he stepped out of the dojo, night had already fallen. Streetlamps glowed faintly against the cool evening air. The sky had shifted into deep dusk. With the last traces of daylight fading behind the buildings, Satoru turned toward home. No detours. Just him and his steady stride.
He was crossing an intersection when a middle-aged man stopped him and handed him a flyer.
[Fulfill Your Wish!]
A strange magic circle was printed in the center.
Satoru stared at it for a moment. Instead of tossing it away, he slipped the paper into his pocket.
---
Back at his apartment, the routine began.
100 push-ups.
100 sit-ups.
100 squats.
10 kilometers of running.
That was one round.
A brief ten-minute rest, then repeat.
By the end of the fifth cycle, his body screamed in protest. He collapsed onto the floor, clothes drenched, sweat dripping into dark little puddles against the wooden boards. His calves throbbed with leaden weight; every twitch of muscle sent lances of pain shooting through his limbs.
Anyone else would have broken themselves by now. But Satoru had one advantage—his divine artifact could heal the strain.
After recovering just enough, he picked up his wooden sword and continued kendo practice, his eyes sharpened with quiet determination.
Steel hummed in the air as he transitioned to sword drills. The blade cut clean lines through the space around him, each motion faster, sharper, more refined.
---
At the same time—inside the old school building of Kouh Academy.
The clubroom's door creaked open, and Kiba Yuuto stepped inside.
"President, I've returned."
Bathed in the warm glow of lamplight, a crimson-haired young woman sat elegantly with teacup in hand. Rias Gremory lifted her gaze, her sapphire eyes gleaming.
"You're later than I expected," she remarked softly, voice carrying both curiosity and grace.
"Nothing serious," Yuuto replied, shaking his head. "But… I did encounter something unusual."
He reported everything he'd seen—arranging fights with classmates, challenging an entire kendo dojo.
Rias' expression grew pensive.
Earlier that morning, she had received a request from Nagatsuki Minami to keep an eye on Satoru Mikami. As the manager of this territory, she already knew of his run-in with the Curse Spirits.
In a sense, she had failed in her duty for not preventing the incident. That was why she compensated him generously with fifty million yen in the name of insurance—and why she had been secretly monitoring his actions since then.
From purchasing exercise equipment to relentless training, his every moment outside of eating and sleeping was dedicated to strength.
And now, he was even challenging dojos.
"As Teacher Nagatsuki predicted…" Rias sighed, setting down her teacup. "He's gone to an extreme."
Himejima Akeno, ever radiant, tilted her head with a smile that didn't quite hide her concern. "What do you plan to do, Rias? Tell him everything?"
"Yes." Rias' tone left no room for doubt. "The pursuit of strength is natural, but obsession can lead to dangerous paths. Better to guide him openly than let misunderstandings fester."
Just then, the magic circle in the corner of the room flared with light.
"It's summoning me."
From the couch, a petite silver-haired girl who had been playing handheld games finally stood, brushing back her bangs.
Devils had work to do. Summonings, contracts, fulfilling desires—this was their way of life.
With practiced ease, she poured magic into the glowing circle. A pulse of power surged, and the world around her shifted.
When the light faded, she stood inside a room cluttered with dumbbells, training mats, and a faint scent of sweat.
"Nice to meet you. I am the Devil who responded to your call. Esteemed guest, what is your wish—"
Her memorized line stopped short.
Staring at the boy in front of her, recognition flashed in her golden eyes.
"…Excuse me, are you Mikami–Senpai?"
"It's me," he replied casually, holding out a small plate of snacks. "Want some?"
"Thanks for the treat."
Koneko placed the empty plate on a table, her expression unusually content. "Where did you get this dessert?"
"Two blocks from the academy. Akane Kubo's shop. The manager's a Totsuki alum. I can grab another next time."
"That's kind of you, but unnecessary."
She said softly. "As a devil, I can't accept gifts unrelated to contracts!"
Satoru raised a brow. "I'm not giving it to a devil. I'm giving it to a kouhai. That doesn't break any rules, right?"
Koneko blinked.
He wasn't what she'd expected. Rumors said he'd gone cold, obsessed with strength after the curse attack.
Violent. Distant.
But now...
"You're different from what the president described."
she admitted.
"How so?"
"..Nicer."
Satoru shrugged.
"I don't think I've changed."
He used to be a model student. Polite, quiet, disciplined. No fights, no drama. Member of the Homecoming Club even.
But the rumors said otherwise. Why?
"I didn't mean it in a bad way, senpai. Please don't misunderstand."
Koneko hesitated, then added, "I heard it from the president. She said you've been training obsessively since the attack. Like you've gone extreme."
"I have." Satoru said plainly.
"What?"
He lifted the summoning flyer and waved it.
"Guess why I summoned you?"
"To fight?"
"Bingo."
He stood up, cracking his knuckles. "Let's spar. I need Someone to push me."
Koneko nodded without hesitation. Despite her size, she was more than strong enough to spar with someone like him. A devil's strength could shatter walls.
She moved a table aside, clearing a space in the room.
"I'm ready."
"If you're sure, then let's begin."
Satoru closed the gap in a flash, appearing in front of her before she even registered the movement.
"So fast!"
She instinctively raised her arms and blocked his strike. The blow rattled her frame, and a follow-up barrage followed like a storm. Fist after fist clashed against her guard.
Her plan to guide him... faltered.
There was nothing to correct.
His form was perfect. A blend of judo, muay thai, taekwondo, and street brawling-all merged with custom efficiency.
She didn't need to teach him. She could learn from him.
"Spacing out in battle isn't wise."
Satoru's voice pulled her back.
Then the doubled strength kicked in.
His punch slammed into her palms with twice the force. She staggered, struggling to recover.
"Not good."
She tried to leap back and regain distance.
Too late.
Satoru's foot shattered the floor beneath him as he launched forward. His hand shot out, grabbed her by the collar, and slammed her into the wall.
Boom.
The impact shook the room.
Air rushed from her lungs as she gasped for breath. Reacting on instinct, she raised her fists and counter attacked.