Third POV
The rain hammered against the apartment windows like bullets from heaven, each droplet carrying the weight of an ending and the promise of a beginning. Inside the modest one-bedroom flat, twenty-two-year-old Kenji Nakamura sat hunched over his laptop, completely absorbed in the glow of the screen as Fairy Tail's main theme played softly through his headphones—the sweeping orchestral piece that never failed to give him chills.
{"The bonds that tie us together are stronger than any magic..."} The familiar lyrics whispered in his mind as he scrolled through the latest High School DxD light novel volume on his screen. Even after all these years, the story of Issei Hyoudou and his supernatural adventures still captivated him. Dragons, devils, sacred gears, and the complex world of the Three Factions—it was everything he'd ever wanted in a fantasy series.
His bookshelf groaned under the weight of his collection: every volume of High School DxD, Fairy Tail, Hunter x Hunter, The Dragon Prince art books, That Time I Got Reincarnated as a Slime, Tsukimichi: Moonlit Fantasy, and Arifureta. Each series had shaped his imagination, filled his dreams with magic systems and epic adventures he could only experience through pages and screens.
"If only..." he murmured, taking another sip of his now-cold coffee. "If only worlds like that actually existed."
Thunder cracked overhead, and the lights flickered. Kenji barely noticed, too engrossed in reading about Ddraig, the legendary Red Dragon Emperor sealed within the Boosted Gear. The concept fascinated him—a being of immense power, reduced to a voice within a sacred gear, yet still capable of granting unimaginable strength to its wielder.
"I, who shall awaken, am the Heavenly Dragon who stole the principal of Domination from God—"
The apartment shook.
Not from thunder this time, but something else. Something *wrong*. The air grew thick and oppressive, like breathing through molasses. Kenji's laptop screen began to flicker, the text warping and shifting as if reality itself was being rewritten.
He tried to stand, but his limbs felt heavy, disconnected. The music in his headphones distorted, Fairy Tail's inspiring theme becoming a haunting dirge that seemed to echo from everywhere and nowhere at once.
"What the hell—?"
The words died in his throat as his chest erupted in agony. Looking down in horror, he saw his own blood seeping through his shirt, spreading like crimson ink on paper. But there was no wound, no weapon—just pain beyond comprehension, as if his very soul was being torn apart.
'This isn't possible. This can't be happening.'
But even as rational thought screamed protests, he felt his life ebbing away. His vision blurred, the familiar characters on his screen becoming indistinct shadows. The last thing he saw before darkness claimed him was a flash of text that hadn't been there before—words that seemed to burn themselves into his dying consciousness:
*"The blood of Buné flows strong in this one... Yes, he will do nicely."*
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
unknown space
Consciousness returned slowly, like surfacing from the deepest ocean. But this wasn't the void he'd expected—this was something else entirely. He floated in a space between spaces, surrounded by swirling colors that had no names and sounds that existed beyond hearing.
Before him materialized a figure of impossible beauty and terrible power. Neither male nor female, but somehow both and neither, wreathed in shadows that moved with their own intelligence. When it spoke, its voice contained multitudes—the whisper of wind through ancient trees, the rumble of earthquakes, the crackle of lightning across stormy skies.
{Fascinating,} the entity mused, circling him like a predator studying prey. {You know of worlds beyond your own. You understand the nature of dragons, of devils, of sacred gears. Tell me, mortal soul—what would you give to live again in such a world?}
"I... I'm dead." The words came out as barely a whisper, though he wasn't sure he had a mouth to speak with in this place.
{Indeed. Quite thoroughly, I'm afraid. A peculiar form of spontaneous spiritual combustion—your soul's intense desire to experience the fantastic literally burned your mundane flesh from the inside out. Rare, but not unheard of among those who dream too deeply of other realities.}
The being's laughter was like crystal chimes in a hurricane. {But death is merely a transition, young dreamer. And I find myself in need of an agent—someone who understands the complexities of the supernatural world, yet isn't bound by its politics and prejudices.}
"Agent for what?"
{Change. Evolution. Destiny.} The entity's form shifted, showing glimpses of vast wings, serpentine coils, burning eyes. {The world of devils and dragons stands at a crossroads. The old ways are crumbling, and new powers are awakening. I offer you a chance to be part of that transformation.}
Images flashed through his consciousness—a world where angels battled devils in the sky, where dragons could level mountains with their breath, where humans wielded sacred gears that contained the souls of legends. But there was something more, something deeper lurking beneath the familiar facade.
"This is the High School DxD world," he breathed, recognizing the supernatural landscape. "But it's different somehow."
{Very perceptive. Yes, it is that world—but one where the boundaries have grown thin. Where other realities bleed through, bringing with them new magics, new dragons, new possibilities.} The entity's smile was sharp enough to cut reality. {You will be reborn as a child of two bloodlines—human and devil. Specifically, the extinct Buné lineage of the 72 Pillars.}
Buné. Even with his extensive knowledge of demonology from his reading, that name sent chills through his soul. A Great Duke of Hell, commander of thirty legions, master of the dead and bringer of wealth. One of the 72 demons of the Ars Goetia, supposedly extinct in the DxD world's devil society.
{Your human parent will be created by the Sigurd Institution—engineered to wield the legendary demonic swords once carried by the great hero himself. Your devil parent carries the blood of Buné, the 26th family of the extinct pillars. The dragon tamers, the shapeshifters who could take the form of dragons themselves. You will be unique—a bridge between old and new, mortal and immortal, human and dragon.}
"And in exchange?"
The entity's eyes blazed with ancient hunger. {You will grow strong. You will gather allies. And when the time comes, you will help reshape the supernatural world according to my design. Dragons will roam free once more. Magic will flourish in forms unseen for millennia. The barriers between worlds will crumble, and a new age will dawn.}
"What if I refuse?"
{Then you fade into nothingness, and I find another candidate. Though I suspect you won't refuse—not when I offer you the a sacred hear as your starting gift.}
The words hit him like lightning. A sacred gear would be of great help as a human-devil hybrid. It would help me survive in this new world.
"What sacred gear will I—"
{You will find out when you awaken your memories. Your childhood will be... interesting, to say the least.}
The offer hung in the space between them like a sword waiting to fall. Power beyond imagination, a world of magic and wonder, the chance to live out every fantasy he'd ever dreamed—but at what cost? What was this entity's true agenda?
Yet even as doubt gnawed at him, he felt his answer crystallizing. What was the alternative? Oblivion? The chance to fade away into nothing, leaving behind only a cold corpse in a lonely apartment?
"I accept."
The entity's laughter was triumphant. {Excellent. Then let us begin your new story, child of Buné. Welcome to a world where dragons soar, devils scheme, and the impossible becomes inevitable.}
Reality shattered around him like breaking glass.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Six years later...
Akira Buné—for that was the name his parents had given his new identity—sat bolt upright in his child-sized bed, eyes wide with the shock of complete and perfect memory.
Every detail of his previous life crashed into his six-year-old mind like a tsunami of consciousness. Kenji Nakamura, the apartment, the rain, the mysterious entity, the deal he'd made—it all came flooding back with crystal clarity that no normal child should possess.
'Holy shit. It actually happened.'
He looked down at his small hands, marveling at the pale skin that bore no resemblance to his previous Japanese features. His reflection in the bedroom mirror showed a child with unusual silver-white hair and heterochromatic eyes—one green, one red. The mark of mixed blood, human and devil intertwined.
Memories of this life overlaid his restored consciousness like a double-exposed photograph. Loving parents who thought their son was simply a quiet, thoughtful child. A peaceful existence in Kuoh Town, where he'd somehow already befriended a cheerful brown-haired boy named Issei Hyoudou and a spirited girl named Irina Shidou.
But there were other memories too—strange dreams that had felt more real than reality. Dreams of soaring through clouds on wings of shadow and flame, of ancient dragons bowing their heads in respect, of power coursing through his veins like molten gold. Dreams that his parents had attributed to an overactive imagination, never knowing they were the stirring echoes of his Buné bloodline.
But now he remembered everything. The supernatural world that lurked beneath Kuoh's peaceful facade. The devils, angels, and fallen angels locked in their eternal cold war. The dragons that could reshape reality with their power. The 72 Pillars and their noble bloodlines—and how 40 of those families, including his own Buné clan, had been driven to extinction during the Great War.
His left arm began to tingle, a warmth spreading through his veins that had nothing to do with the sacred gear he was about to discover. This was something else—something that made his heterochromatic eyes flash gold for just a moment. The dormant dragon blood stirring in response to his awakened consciousness.
And then his left arm erupted in crimson light.
A red gauntlet materialized around his forearm, adorned with golden spikes and a brilliant green jewel that pulsed like a heartbeat. The weight of it, the power radiating from it, made his breath catch in his throat.
His eyes widened in shock and disbelief. 'No way. It can't be.'
[Partner?]
The voice in his mind was deep, ancient, and unmistakably draconic.
[So, you've finally remembered who you truly are. Interesting. Most reincarnated souls don't retain such perfect recall.]
Akira stared at the legendary sacred gear adorning his arm, his mind reeling with the implications. "The Boosted Gear," he whispered in awe and terror. "But that means... Ddraig?"
[Indeed we do, young dragon emperor. Indeed we do.]
The dragon's voice carried an undertone of something that might have been amusement. [Interesting. Your soul recognizes me, but your bloodline... that is something I did not expect. Tell me, child—do you know what flows through your veins?]
Akira's breath caught. Of course Ddraig would sense it. The Red Dragon Emperor, one of the Two Heavenly Dragons, would immediately recognize draconic heritage, no matter how diluted. "Buné," he whispered. "The dragon tamers. But they're extinct."
[Extinct, perhaps. But not forgotten. And not entirely gone, it would seem.] Ddraig's mental voice grew thoughtful. [This is... unprecedented. A wielder of my sacred gear with the blood of dragons flowing through their veins. The potential for growth... for evolution... it is extraordinary.]
Outside his window, dawn was breaking over Kuoh Town, painting the sky in shades of red and gold. Somewhere out there, Issei was probably still sleeping peacefully, unaware that his childhood friend had just become something far more dangerous than a normal half-devil child.
Somewhere else, Irina was likely preparing for another day of cheerful innocence, not knowing that the boy she considered one of her dearest friends was now carrying the soul of a legendary dragon.
And scattered across multiple dimensions, ancient dragons stirred in their slumber, sensing the awakening of powers that had been sealed away for far too long. The blood of Buné, those who had once commanded their respect and kinship, had returned to the world. Some felt curiosity. Others felt hunger. All felt the potential for change.
The game was beginning. The pieces were moving into position.
And at the center of it all sat a six-year-old boy with the memories of a man, the blood of demon dragons, the soul of the Red Dragon Emperor burning in his chest like a star preparing to go supernova, and the dormant power to command and become the very creatures that ruled the skies.
[So,] Ddraig rumbled with something that might have been amusement, [what do you intend to do first, partner?]
Akira smiled—a expression far too knowing and far too dangerous for any child's face.
"We're going to change everything."
The morning sun climbed higher, and the long journey toward an impossible destiny began.