Chapter 1: A Distant Crimson Branch
The Great War was less of a glorious epic and more of a cosmic headache. As the dust settled over the scorched plains of the Underworld, the air stayed heavy with the scent of ozone and spent mana.
Sirzechs Lucifer—formerly Gremory—stood atop a jagged obsidian ridge. His long crimson hair fluttered in the stagnant breeze. To any onlooker, he was the picture of a stoic, god-like sovereign. In reality, he was mostly thinking about how much paperwork it was going to take to fix the local geography.
"Lord Sirzechs," a scout called out, bowing low. "The Old Devil faction has officially retreated into the dimensional gap. The sector is clear."
"Good," Sirzechs replied, his voice calm and melodic. "Let's wrap this up. I'd like to see my sister before she decides to start another rebellion over her bedtime."
He was about to teleport when a faint pulse hit him. It wasn't a hostile spike of energy; it was a rhythmic, low-frequency hum. It felt like a heartbeat made of static. It was a resonance he knew intimately.
The Power of Destruction? Here?
Curiosity piqued, Sirzechs followed the trail. He found the source in the center of a small, accidental crater. There was no legendary weapon or dying warrior. There was just a basket, a very sturdy blanket, and a baby with a tuft of hair so red it practically glowed against the grey ash.
As Sirzechs leaned over, the infant opened his eyes. They weren't just red; they were a deep, swirling crimson that seemed to track the flow of Sirzechs's own aura. The baby didn't cry. Instead, he reached up and let out a tiny puff of dark purple sparks that sizzled harmlessly against Sirzechs's finger.
Sirzechs blinked. "Well. You're a little overachiever, aren't you?"
The Family Meeting
The Gremory estate was as opulent as ever, though the atmosphere today was more "bureaucratic confusion" than "noble grace." Zeoticus Gremory poked at a magical parchment while Venelana watched the infant—now identified as Lucian—nap on a silk cushion.
"It's quite simple, Sirzechs," Zeoticus explained, adjusting his monocle. "The Gremory clan has dozens of collateral branches. During the chaos, several were wiped out or displaced. This child's lineage traces back to a distant cousin's line. High bloodline compatibility, clearly."
"He has the spark," Venelana noted, her eyes sharp. "Though it's... temperamental. Like a flickering candle that occasionally tries to melt the candlestick."
"So, we keep him?" Sirzechs asked, already imagining the PR benefits of a 'miracle survivor' for the clan's morale.
"He is Gremory blood," Zeoticus shrugged. "We'll provide him a manor, a tutor, and a spot in the family tree. Just make sure he doesn't accidentally erase the garden fountain. Those statues were expensive."
And so, Lucian Gremory was officially added to the ledger. Not as a prince, not as a secret weapon, but as that "distant relative" everyone mentions at parties but never actually invites to the main table.
The Training "Incident"
Ten years passed in a blur of etiquette lessons, magical theory, and Lucian trying—and failing—to be the "cool" Gremory.
While Rias was busy being the pampered heiress and perfecting her high-tier spells, Lucian was usually found in the back courtyard, staring intensely at a spoon.
"Focus, Lucian," a younger Sirzechs (visiting on a rare day off) encouraged. "Don't try to break the spoon. Try to make the spoon stop existing."
Lucian, now fourteen, wiped sweat from his brow. His dark red eyes were wide with effort. "Lord Sirzechs, with all due respect, I think the spoon is winning."
"Nonsense. You have the Power of Destruction. It's in your DNA. Just give it a little nudge."
Lucian took a deep breath. He channeled everything. He thought about the void, the end of all things, and that one time a maid had forgotten to bring him dessert.
VROOOM.
A sphere of chaotic purple energy the size of a basketball materialized. It didn't just erase the spoon; it erased the table, a nearby hedge, and about six inches of the stone flooring.
"I did it!" Lucian cheered.
Then, his face went pale. His vision began to swim. The "Power of Destruction" turned out to have a very literal trade-off: it destroyed his stamina bar in roughly three seconds.
"Oh," Lucian mumbled, his knees turning to jelly. "The world is spinning. Why is the world spinning?"
"Careful—" Sirzechs started, reaching out.
THUD.
Lucian hit the grass, out cold before his head even bounced.
Sirzechs sighed, picking up the boy. "Well, at least he didn't take my arm off this time. Progress."
The Awakening
Inside the darkness of Lucian's mind, things were getting weird.
Wait. Why do I remember high school? Why do I remember... taxes? And why is there a theme song playing in the distance?
A flood of memories that didn't belong to a Devil teenager surged forward. Blueprints of a modern city, the feeling of a smartphone in a hand, and the distinct knowledge that "High School DxD" was supposed to be a series he watched on a weekend binge.
Lucian's eyes snapped open.
The ceiling was too high. The bed was too soft. The air smelled like expensive lavender and ancient magic.
"Ugh... my head feels like it was used as a percussion instrument," Lucian groaned, sitting up. He froze, looking at his hands. They were pale, youthful, and—more importantly—not the hands of a twenty-something office worker.
He scrambled out of bed and found a mirror. A handsome teenager stared back, sporting a messy mane of crimson hair and eyes that looked like they were holding a sunset captive.
"No way," he whispered. "I'm... I'm a Gremory? I'm in the Underworld?"
He looked around the room, spotting a family photo on the desk. There was Sirzechs looking regal, and a younger Rias Gremory looking remarkably smug with a trophy.
"I'm a background character," he realized, a slow grin spreading across his face. "I'm a distant relative with a cool power that makes me faint. I have the ultimate 'get out of work' card."
A soft knock at the door interrupted his epiphany. The door creaked open, and a young Rias Gremory poked her head in. She looked concerned, but in that "I'm the boss of you" kind of way.
"Lucian? Brother Sirzechs said you overdid it again," she said, crossing her arms. "Honestly, you need to learn your limits. You've been asleep for a full day. You missed the meeting with the Sitri girl."
Lucian stared at her. The heiress of the Gremory clan was standing in his bedroom, lecturing him about his mana management.
"Rias?" he asked, his voice cracking slightly.
"Yes? Who else would it be?" she huffed, walking over to check his forehead for a fever. "You look pale. Did the backlash scramble your brain?"
Lucian took a long, slow breath. He was a Devil. He had a family that was basically the 1% of the afterlife. He had "Red Eyes" that felt like they were scanning the room like a high-tech camera. And he had a beautiful girl currently checking his temperature.
He leaned back into the pillows, a hysterical little laugh escaping his lips.
"Okay..." he muttered to himself. "This is definitely not normal."
Rias narrowed her eyes. "Are you laughing? Lucian, I'm being serious! If you can't control your magic, you'll never be a proper Knight of the Gremory name!"
"Right, right. Proper Knight. No erasing the furniture. Got it," Lucian said, flashing her a grin that was a bit too relaxed for a noble.
As Rias continued to lecture him, Lucian looked out the window at the purple sky of the Underworld. He didn't have a grand destiny, he wasn't the "chosen one" with a dragon in his arm, and he currently had the physical endurance of a wet paper towel.
But he was here. And it was going to be a hell of a lot more interesting than his old life.