Location: Unknown
POV: Unknown
There was nothing.
No light. No sound. No direction.
I couldn't feel a body. I wasn't sure if I was breathing. It felt like I was just… floating.
At first, I thought it was a dream. Then I wondered if I was dead.
I didn't know how it happened—just that it had. The last few days of my life were a blur. I'd been locked in my room, barely eating, glued to a screen. Games, videos—nothing helped. I wasn't really living.
I was a shut-in. A NEET. I didn't want to admit it, but I'd stopped moving forward. I kept telling myself I just needed more time. But I knew the truth. I was stuck.
And now I was here.
No pain. No fear at first. Just silence. But the longer I stayed, the heavier it felt. I didn't know how long I'd been here—or if time even existed in this place.
That's when fear crept in.
What if this was all there was? No afterlife. No reincarnation. Just emptiness. No sound. No people. Nothing.
That thought terrified me more than dying.
I wanted something to happen. Anything. Even pain would be better than this. I didn't want to be forgotten. I didn't want to disappear.
I don't know how long I repeated those thoughts. But eventually… something changed.
A pull. Slow at first, then stronger. It felt like I was being dragged upward, like rising through water.
I didn't know where I was going.
But I was going somewhere.
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Location: Tartarus
POV: Zephan Asmodeus
I woke to knocking. Sharp. Calm. Repeated.
My eyes opened slowly. Light filtered through dark red curtains. The ceiling above was black stone, polished smooth, with faint silver lines that caught the dim light.
It was cold. Strange. But not unfamiliar.
"Lord Zephan," came a voice from behind the door. A woman's voice. Steady. Formal.
"It is morning."
I knew that name—Azelia.
The memories came quickly. She was my maid. My guard. Someone assigned to watch over me. I didn't know how I knew that… but I did.
It felt like two sets of memories were blending. His and mine. His grief. His anger. His loneliness. They pressed against the back of my thoughts like shadows I hadn't invited.
The door opened. She stepped in without hesitation.
Azelia Agaliarept moved with quiet control. Her uniform was simple but sharp—black with silver trim, a white underskirt, clean cuffs. Her pink hair was cut in a neat bob that covered her left eye. The other eye was a clear, focused red. She didn't blink much.
She looked at me for a moment. Then gave a small bow.
"I'll prepare your clothing."
I sat up while she moved to the wardrobe. The bed was large—too large. The mattress was thick, the sheets deep red, everything too soft. It looked like something built for nobility, not comfort.
I took in the room.
Tall windows, mostly covered. A clean fireplace. Shelves filled with books. Stone floors covered in red and silver carpet. A tidy desk in the corner. The walls, the floor, the ceiling—everything was dark, expensive, and perfectly clean.
It didn't feel like a home. More like a museum.
This was the Asmodeus Quarter. I didn't know how I knew that, but the memories made it clear.
Azelia returned with clothes in hand. She laid them out without a word: a sleeveless tunic with silver trim, a red-lined cloak for the left shoulder, black trousers, a sash, and polished boots.
She turned to me. I stood and began to change.
She didn't look away. That was her job. I didn't mind.
I caught my reflection in a tall mirror. The face staring back was new and familiar at the same time. Medium-length black hair. Pale skin. Slitted red eyes. The build was lean, tall, and strong.
This was Zephan Asmodeus.
And now… so was I.
Azelia stepped forward to fasten the cloak's clasp at my shoulder. Her movements were quick and precise.
"You seem more… aware," she said, voice low.
I didn't answer right away. I watched her in the mirror. Her face didn't show much, but her eyes held something—maybe curiosity. Maybe caution.
"I'm well enough," I said quietly.
She stepped back.
"What would you like to do today?"
I looked toward the window. I needed to understand where I was.
"A walk," I said. "Around the estate."
"As you wish."
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The halls were quiet.
My steps echoed softly on the stone floor. Azelia followed a few paces behind me. Always the same distance. Never too close. Never too far.
Tall pillars lined the halls. The walls were carved with clean patterns and filled with soft, cold light from crystals in the ceiling. Everything was neat. Perfect. Empty.
The Asmodeus estate felt more like a fortress than a home. Its design was hard. Straight lines. Cold colors. No decoration unless it had meaning.
Two servants crossed the hall ahead of us. They saw me, stopped, bowed, and kept their heads down until I passed. Not just respect—fear.
I didn't blame them.
Zephan had been powerful. Not just by blood. By what he carried.
Starsend Moment.
A power that could change fate. Even now, I could feel it—dormant, deep inside.
We turned through the western wing and reached the garden.
It wasn't a real garden. No flowers. No warmth. Only strange purple plants, glowing bulbs, and tall trees with glassy leaves. The air was still and dry.
A statue stood in the center. A man in obsidian—one wing outstretched, a long blade rising from his palm. The original Asmodeus.
The plaque beneath him read:
"He Who Judges the Fates of All."
I stared at it for a while. The memories it stirred weren't mine—but they still made my chest tighten.
"It's well-kept," I said.
Azelia answered evenly. "Per Lord Creuserey's orders."
Of course. He wanted it to look perfect. He didn't care what it meant. Just how it appeared.
I turned and walked away.
We climbed to the top of the central tower. The air grew quieter with each step. When we reached the rooftop, a soft wind brushed against my face. It wasn't natural, of course—Tartarus had no sky. The breeze was a magical effect, meant to simulate fresh air. Still, it felt real enough.
I stepped to the edge.
The city stretched out below me.
Tartarus. The hidden refuge of the Old Satan Faction. A place forgotten by the world above.
The cavern was enormous—larger than I'd imagined. Its ceiling loomed high, studded with thousands of glowing crystals, casting faint silver-blue light across the city. The glow reminded me of a night sky, but colder. More distant.
The lower city spread out like a puzzle of stone and magic. Tiered streets wound between squat buildings of blackstone and mana-bonded concrete. Some looked newly repaired. Others looked like they hadn't seen maintenance in decades. Here and there, narrow towers rose from the ground like jagged teeth, surrounded by alleys and walkways so thin I could barely trace them.
Enchanted rivers ran through the city, glowing with soft blue light. They twisted between districts, branching into channels that powered forges, wards, and lights. Steam drifted from certain structures—labs or foundries maybe. I saw bridges of dark iron, walkways of runed crystal, and streets etched with fading sigils.
To the west, beneath me, stood the rest of the Asmodeus Quarter—tall, orderly, severe. Its plazas were angular, its buildings monolithic. Courts, libraries, and council halls lined the upper tiers like silent watchers.
To the east, the Leviathan Quarter shimmered near a massive underground lake. Tall towers curved like coral or sea serpents, their foundations half-submerged in glowing water. Mist drifted across the surface, swirling with weak runes. Some of the spires were completely underwater, connected by crystal tunnels that flickered with magic.
And behind the central keep, the Beelzebub Quarter loomed—dark and smoky. Built like a fortress. I could make out foundries, training pits, and large stone barracks. Flame-light flickered from behind slitted windows. The air above it shimmered with heat.
At the very center lay the neutral zone—intended long ago for the descendants of Lucifer. Now it served as an administrative district and a neutral meeting space. It was the only part of the city where the three factions truly shared ground.
I took it all in. For a long time, I didn't speak.
Then:
"How many people live down there?"
Azelia didn't hesitate. "Approximately 300,000."
I nodded. That was less than I expected, but not nothing. Enough to build something from. Maybe.
But she wasn't finished.
"Large portions of the population live in poverty," she added. "Many are unemployed. Some are homeless. The deeper levels are the worst—those furthest from the clan Quarters. Rationing is enforced, but supplies are limited."
I looked down again. And this time, I saw it.
Beyond the cleaner buildings and brighter streets, the cracks became clear. Shadows lingered in the deeper corners—cluttered alleys, collapsing roofs, makeshift shelters. Some structures were little more than ruins with tarps strung over them. Entire blocks showed signs of neglect.
The glow of magic didn't reach every corner. And neither did hope.
"These people…" I said quietly. "They stayed."
"Yes," Azelia replied. "Even after the war ended. Even when we were forced underground. These are the ones who chose loyalty over safety."
I felt something tighten in my chest. These weren't just soldiers or nobles. They were families. Workers. Old devils. Children. The ones who didn't run when everything collapsed.
When the world turned its back on the Old Satan Faction, they didn't follow.
They stayed.
They lost everything—and stayed.
And now they lived like this. Forgotten. Cramped into a hollowed cavern, scraping by on whatever the faction could give them.
I looked down again. The deeper levels of Tartarus were easier to see now—cracked streets, half-lit alleys, homes patched with scrap material and magic that was barely holding together. And still, they stayed. These people hadn't abandoned the Old Satan Faction. They hadn't run when everything fell apart.
They stayed. And now they lived like this.
That fact stuck with me more than I expected.
I stood above them. On polished stone. In a tailored cloak. Wearing the name of a family that had lost everything but pride.
Zephan Asmodeus.
I could still feel the pieces shifting inside me. My memories, and his. The instincts that weren't mine, but felt natural. The silence of this place, once oppressive, now felt… familiar.
And then came the realization I'd been circling since I woke up.
This world. The names. The powers. The history.
It was High School DxD.
The world I'd only watched, read, and obsessed over. Now it was real. And I was in the middle of it—not as a background character, not as a pawn.
But as a devil with a name people remembered. And feared.
I didn't know what I was supposed to do with that.
Not yet.
I looked down at the city again, at the devils who lived there. My jaw tensed slightly.
I was going to have to figure it out.
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A/N: Thanks for reading, please leave powerstones and/or a review if you liked it.