The quiet of the Underworld slums was never peace. It was merely the brief, suffocating lull between atrocities. Acidic rain hissed against shattered stone gargoyles, collecting in stagnant sulfur-filled gutters. Above the rusted rooftops and crumbling brick alleys, the Netherworld's crimson sky hung like an open wound.
Mikhael sat cross-legged in the darkest corner of his abandoned shelter, a collapsed stone alcove that had once belonged to a low-tier blacksmith before the Great Civil War swept through the territory.
His malnourished six-year-old body ached in nearly every joint. His crimson eyes, however, remained alert.
He opened his System interface with a mental command.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE]
Name: Mikhael
Race: Demon (Low-Class / Unaffiliated)
Age: 6
Level: 1
Experience: 6 / 100
[STATS]
Strength: 10
Intelligence: 10
Wisdom: 10
Durability: 10
Dexterity: 10
Agility: 10
Mana (Maryoku): 10,000 / 10,000
Health: 15,000 / 15,000
"Level one."
Mikhael stared at the display for a moment before dismissing it.
"How wonderfully unimpressive."
His gaze drifted towards the entrance of his shelter.
"In a world where High-Class Devils can level mountains and Longinus wielders can threaten gods, I'm barely worth the effort of crushing."
He wasn't being particularly pessimistic. It was simply an accurate assessment.
He knew the world of High School DxD well enough to understand the hierarchy awaiting him. The pure-blood heirs of the Seventy-Two Pillars—Bael, Gremory, Sitri, Phenex and the rest—were born into privileges that lesser demons could spend centuries trying to acquire.
Bloodline abilities, ancient connections, enormous reserves of demonic power.
Meanwhile, those born without a distinguished lineage were left fighting over scraps.
Mikhael had no intention of remaining among them.
Ten years remained before the events he remembered would begin unfolding. Ten years to build his strength, establish his influence and construct something that even the great houses would hesitate to challenge.
He wasn't interested in surviving the coming era.
He intended to dictate its terms.
"Well then," he murmured, opening his abilities. "Let's see how much I can accomplish before this body gives out."
His attention settled on his time-manipulation ability.
[Pause].
Part I: The Domain of Deceleration
Mikhael drew a measured breath and focused inward, reaching for the spatial-temporal formula embedded within his soul core.
"Activate [Pause]."
Ripple.
The world around him dissolved into a translucent domain of silver and black.
Acidic raindrops hung motionless in the air. Sulfurous fumes ceased their movement. Even the distant cries of gang members in the plaza disappeared, leaving behind an absolute silence.
Within this isolated space, time moved one hundred times slower than in the outside world.
An hour of training here would consume less than thirty-six seconds in the Underworld.
Mikhael examined the surroundings before looking down at his hands.
"At least I won't have to worry about someone interrupting me."
A blue notification appeared.
[DAILY QUEST: PHYSICAL CONDITIONING]
Push-ups: 0 / 100
Sit-ups: 0 / 100
Squats: 0 / 100
10 km Run: 0 / 10 km
Base Rewards: +20 Stat Points, Full Health & Stamina Restoration, +50 EXP.
Note: Failure to complete within 24 hours (domain time) will result in a Penalty Quest in the Netherworld Pits.
Mikhael read through the objectives twice.
A hundred push-ups. A hundred sit-ups. A hundred squats. Ten kilometres.
For a properly nourished adult, it might have been an uncomfortable morning's exercise.
For a six-year-old whose ribs were visible beneath his clothing, it was considerably less amusing.
He looked at his thin arms.
"Apparently, the System has very little sympathy for its users."
He paused.
"Not that I expected any."
Mikhael lowered himself to the floor.
If he couldn't endure the foundations of physical conditioning, there was little point in entertaining ambitions of ruling anything.
He began.
One. Two. Three...
By the thirty-fourth push-up, his arms had begun trembling. His shoulders burned, and every attempt to lower himself felt heavier than the last.
He clenched his jaw.
Forty-five. Forty-six.
His breathing became uneven.
Within his soul core, three presences had been observing the exercise.
The first voice arrived with the familiar weight of aristocratic disdain.
"Is this truly what you intend to call training?" Pride remarked. "I've witnessed condemned servants display greater physical discipline."
A faint pause followed.
"Though I suppose I should account for the rather unfortunate vessel you've been given."
Envy's laughter slipped through his thoughts, soft and unpleasant.
"How generous of you, Pride. Shall we applaud him as well?"
Her green shadow shifted.
"Imagine being born into one of the great houses. A proper body. A proper lineage. All that power handed to you before you've even learned to walk."
Her voice lowered.
"And here he is, fighting for the privilege of standing upright. Doesn't it make you wonder what you could have been?"
Gluttony's response was considerably less articulate.
"Flesh weak. Bones thin. Muscles failing..."
A wet, hungry chuckle followed.
"But weakness can be eaten. Broken down. Replaced. Again and again."
Mikhael's arms nearly gave way.
"Could the three of you," he muttered between breaths, "find something more productive to do than comment on my suffering?"
"We are providing encouragement," Pride replied.
"Then I'd hate to hear what you consider criticism."
He forced himself upright.
Eighty. Ninety. One hundred.
Mikhael collapsed onto the stone floor, his chest rising and falling rapidly.
For several seconds, he simply lay there.
Then he rolled onto his back.
"Wonderful. Only three more opportunities to regret being born."
He began the sit-ups.
The next exercises were no kinder. His legs shook through the squats, and his stomach cramped as he forced himself through the final repetitions.
Eventually, he reached the run.
The interior of the Pause domain expanded into an endless track paved with dark basalt. Mikhael began running, regulating his breathing and cautiously directing Maryoku into his legs to reinforce his tendons.
It was a crude application of physical reinforcement, similar in principle to human Touki or ordinary demonic enhancement.
Kilometre after kilometre passed.
His feet blistered. His breathing grew ragged. More than once, his knees threatened to buckle.
But he kept moving.
When he finally crossed the last marker, he fell forward onto the track.
For a while, the only thing he could hear was his own breathing.
Chime!
[DAILY QUEST COMPLETED!]
Base Rewards Earned: +20 Stat Points, Full Recovery, +50 EXP.
Golden light washed over his body.
The blisters disappeared. Damaged muscle fibres knitted themselves together, and the exhaustion that had settled into his bones vanished.
Mikhael slowly sat up.
"Now that's a considerably better reward."
He opened the System again.
There was still something he wanted to test.
"Amplifying. Apply it to the quest rewards."
The interface flickered.
Unlike most active abilities, Amplifying required neither Maryoku nor stamina to activate. Its function was straightforward: improve the quantity and quality of System-generated yields.
A silver-blue glow spread across the notification.
[AMPLIFYING ACTIVE — GAIN MULTIPLIER APPLIED!]
Amplification Factor: 3x Quality & Quantity Multiplier on System Yields!
Amplified Quest Rewards:
Stat Points: +20 → +60 Stat Points!
Experience Gained: +50 → +150 EXP!
Chime! Chime!
[LEVEL UP!]
[LEVEL UP!]
Level 1 → Level 3
Experience: 56 / 300
Bonus Stat Points Earned from Level Up: +10
Total Stat Points Available:70 Stat Points
Mikhael examined the results.
Seventy points.
He allowed himself a small smile.
"Three times the reward, with no additional expenditure. That's rather convenient."
"You sound pleased," Pride observed.
"I am. It's a rare occasion when something works exactly as intended."
"Try not to become attached to it. Convenience has a habit of disappearing."
"Then I'll make certain I have something to fall back on."
Mikhael opened his stat allocation menu and examined his attributes using Record.
"Strength for physical output. Durability for the obvious reasons. Agility for movement and reaction speed. Dexterity for coordination."
His eyes moved to the remaining attributes.
"Intelligence and Wisdom will matter more when I begin developing my magic. No point neglecting them entirely."
He considered the distribution before committing.
Strength: 10 → 25 (+15)
Durability: 10 → 25 (+15)
Agility: 10 → 25 (+15)
Intelligence: 10 → 15 (+5)
Wisdom: 10 → 15 (+5)
Dexterity: 10 → 25 (+15)
[STAT ALLOCATION COMPLETE]
Strength: 25
Durability: 25
Agility: 25
Intelligence: 15
Wisdom: 15
Dexterity: 25
Mana (Maryoku): 11,000 / 11,000 (+5% per Level)
Health: 16,500 / 16,500 (+5% per Level)
The transformation began immediately.
His muscle fibres compacted, becoming denser and considerably more responsive. His bones strengthened, his posture straightened, and his movements acquired a degree of precision that had been absent moments earlier.
Mikhael rose to his feet.
He clenched his right hand.
Thump.
The air compressed around his knuckles.
He studied his fist.
"Better."
It wasn't enough to make him formidable by the standards of the Underworld. He understood that perfectly well.
Still, it was a promising beginning.
His gaze shifted towards the next stage of his plan.
"Now, for something a little more interesting."
Part II: The Manifestation of Greed
Mikhael deactivated Pause.
The silver domain shattered, and the Underworld returned to motion. Rain struck the stone outside, while the sulfurous wind crept through the narrow entrance.
He turned his attention inward.
Among the presences within his soul core, one had remained unusually quiet throughout the training.
A golden silhouette rested in the darkness, seemingly unconcerned with the proceedings.
Mikhael reached out.
"Greed."
The figure stirred.
"You're needed."
Golden light spread through the void.
A tall silhouette emerged, dressed in a weathered coat, his hands tucked casually into his pockets. Small golden particles drifted around his feet like fragments of scattered treasure.
"Well, well. I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about me."
His voice was smooth, with a faintly amused quality.
"I must say, waking me after that little display of yours is an interesting choice. I would have preferred a proper introduction. Perhaps somewhere with better lighting. And fewer unpleasant smells."
Mikhael ignored the remark.
"I need someone outside this shelter. Someone capable of navigating the slum markets without attracting unnecessary attention."
"And naturally, you've decided that someone should be me."
"You're the most suitable."
"How flattering. Do continue."
"I want an independent agent. Someone who can acquire information, establish contacts and generate resources while I concentrate on developing my abilities."
Greed was quiet for a moment.
Then he laughed.
"Ah. There it is."
His golden eyes narrowed with interest.
"You don't want a servant. You want a second pair of hands, except these hands can think, negotiate and make decisions without you having to babysit them."
"Precisely."
"And what does this arrangement pay?"
Mikhael regarded him.
"You're a manifestation of my own soul."
"An unfortunate technicality. I was hoping for something more substantial."
"Get results first. We can discuss your compensation afterwards."
Greed chuckled.
"There we are. I was wondering when you'd stop pretending to be generous."
Mikhael opened the System menu and selected Cloning.
[ABILITY ACTIVATED: CLONING & AVATAR MANIFESTATION]
Description: Consumes Maryoku to create a physical replica of the user or project an Independent Avatar for one of the Seven Sins into reality.
Cost: 3,000 Maryoku
Current Maryoku Pool: 11,000 / 11,000
"Cloning. Manifest an avatar for Greed."
Crimson Maryoku gathered between his hands, rapidly darkening until it resembled a dense sphere of obsidian. Golden energy wound around its surface.
Mikhael guided the formation with his mind, shaping a physical vessel according to the specifications embedded within Greed's soul profile.
The details were precise.
Height & Build: 6'2", tall and imposing, with a lean athletic frame.
Face & Hair: Lightly tanned skin, jet-black medium-length hair swept back in a deliberately careless style, piercing golden eyes, a sharp jawline and faint stubble.
Attire: A tailored dark emerald-green leather jacket with gold accents, a black turtleneck, fitted black trousers with delicate gold embroidery, polished ankle boots and several rings bearing intricate coin sigils. A thin gold chain held a treasure pendant around his neck.
The energy solidified with a low, resonant whoosh.
A tall man now occupied the cramped alcove.
He examined his hands, flexed his fingers and glanced down at his boots.
Then he looked towards Mikhael.
"Well."
His lips curved.
"That's considerably better."
His voice was deep and refined, carrying a natural confidence that seemed entirely at odds with the filthy surroundings.
He rolled his shoulders.
"I'd almost forgotten what it felt like to have a proper body."
Mikhael examined the manifestation.
Through their soul connection, he could share the avatar's senses, communicate telepathically or assume direct control whenever necessary.
The man adjusted his jacket.
"You're staring. Something wrong with the craftsmanship?"
"Nothing. I was checking the connection."
"And?"
"Stable. Responsive. No noticeable interference."
"Good. I'd hate to have my first outing ruined by faulty construction."
Mikhael gave him a brief look.
"Your name will be Jin Sparrow."
The man's expression changed slightly.
"Jin Sparrow?"
"An old name from my previous life. It belonged to a man associated with freedom, fortune and dangerous waters."
Jin considered it before giving an approving nod.
"Jin Sparrow. Not bad. A little theatrical, perhaps, but I can work with it."
"You're not particularly subtle yourself."
"Subtlety is a matter of presentation, boss. A man can wear gold without announcing that he's wealthy. He can smile without revealing what he's thinking."
Jin glanced towards the entrance.
"Besides, if I'm going to spend my time among merchants and thieves, I might as well look like someone they want to do business with."
Mikhael allowed the remark to pass.
"Then listen carefully. I have three objectives for you."
Jin leaned against the stone wall, folding his arms.
"Go on. I'm beginning to suspect this isn't a social visit."
"First, reconnaissance. I want a map of the local gang structure. Start with Dregar's extortion racket and Galgos's scavenger ring. Find out who answers to whom, where they operate and who supplies their weapons."
Jin's expression became more attentive.
"Names, territories, suppliers. Anything else?"
"Their storage locations. Where they keep stolen goods, weapons and valuables. I want to know what they consider worth protecting."
"Now that's more interesting."
"Second, gather information about the noble houses and the Satan overseers operating in this sector. Find out what's happening with reconstruction following the Civil War. Look into Evil Piece distribution and keep an ear open for rumours involving stray devils or Sacred Gear possessors."
Jin tapped one of his rings.
"That's a wider net. I'll need contacts."
"Then make them."
"And the third?"
"Establish a financial foothold. Look into bounty hunting, trading contraband or any opportunity that could generate a steady flow of resources. I want magic crystals, useful materials and anything that can be absorbed through Gluttony or improved through Amplifying."
Jin was silent for a moment.
His golden eyes moved towards the rain beyond the entrance.
"Let me understand something."
Mikhael waited.
"You've sent me into a district ruled by gangs, populated by scavengers and overlooked by the nobility. You want me to gather information, establish a network and make money."
"Correct."
"And you've given me no starting capital?"
"You have your own initiative."
Jin stared at him.
Then he laughed.
"You're a ruthless little employer, aren't you?"
"I prefer efficient."
"Of course you do."
Jin pushed away from the wall and straightened his jacket.
"Very well. I'll start with the taverns. Men who make their living with a blade are usually careless with their tongues after a few drinks. Merchants, meanwhile, tend to talk when they believe they've found someone desperate enough to pay their prices."
He examined one of his rings.
"Give me a few days and I'll know which pockets are worth picking, which hands are worth shaking and which throats are better left untouched."
"Don't get distracted by the opportunities."
"Boss, opportunities are precisely what I'm looking for."
"You're looking for information."
"Information is an opportunity. So is a careless merchant. So is a gang leader who thinks his men are loyal."
Jin's smile widened.
"One shouldn't be so narrow-minded."
Mikhael studied him.
"There's one more condition. Your connection to me remains secret. As far as anyone else is concerned, you're an independent rogue mercenary looking to make a profit."
Jin nodded.
"Understood."
"Don't attract the attention of high-class Devils or powerful gang leaders unless you have a clear reason. If someone starts asking questions you can't answer, withdraw."
"And if someone offers me an arrangement too profitable to refuse?"
"Use your judgement."
"How trusting."
"Don't mistake independence for permission to be careless."
Jin gave a small laugh.
"I wouldn't dream of it."
He walked towards the entrance, then stopped.
"How often do you want reports?"
"Twice a day through the soul link. Immediately if you discover anything significant."
"Twice a day? You're going to make a very demanding employer."
"Would you prefer I check every hour?"
Jin looked over his shoulder.
"Twice a day sounds wonderful."
He pulled his collar up against the acidic rain.
"Try not to get yourself killed while I'm away. I'd rather not lose my investment."
"Likewise."
With that, Jin Sparrow stepped into the alley.
His tall figure gradually disappeared into the fog.
Part III: The Shadow Over the Slums
Mikhael continued watching through their shared sensory connection.
The view followed Jin through the narrow streets, revealing the miserable state of Sector 4.
Low-class demon scavengers huddled around burning barrels of magical waste. Gang members patrolled the muddy roads with rusted iron pikes. Further away, obsidian towers rose above the sulfurous fog, their silhouettes barely visible against the crimson sky.
Jin navigated the streets without hesitation.
Mikhael eventually withdrew his attention and returned to his shelter.
He pulled his rags around his shoulders and opened the System interface.
[SYSTEM INTERFACE]
Name: Mikhael
Race: Demon (Low-Class / Unaffiliated)
[STATS]
Level: 3 (EXP: 56 / 300)
Strength: 25
Durability: 25
Agility: 25
Intelligence: 15
Wisdom: 15
Dexterity: 25
Maryoku: 8,000 / 11,000 (3,000 used for Cloning)
Health: 16,500 / 16,500
[ACTIVE AVATARS]
Jin Sparrow (Greed): Active in Slum Sector 4 (Infiltration & Intelligence Phase).
Within his soul core, Pride spoke.
"An interesting arrangement. You've sent the fox into the henhouse while the farmer remains comfortably hidden."
Mikhael said nothing.
"Though I question your choice of disguise. A man dressed so extravagantly will inevitably attract attention."
Envy's voice slipped between them.
"Attention isn't always a disadvantage. Let them notice him. Let them wonder where he came from, who he serves and how much he knows."
Her green eyes glimmered.
"They'll begin inventing stories long before he needs to tell them anything. People are remarkably generous when it comes to spreading rumours."
Gluttony gave a low, rumbling chuckle.
"Let them gather their treasures. Let them grow fat and comfortable."
A pause.
"Everything they possess becomes heavier when they have something to lose."
Pride scoffed.
"You would reduce every matter to feeding."
"And you would reduce every matter to kneeling."
For a brief moment, the two presences seemed ready to continue.
Mikhael interrupted them.
"Enough."
Silence followed.
He leaned back against the cold stone.
"I don't need the three of you arguing over who has the more sophisticated appetite. I need you useful."
"How demanding," Pride remarked.
"How unfortunate for you."
Mikhael closed his eyes.
His [Auto-Replenishment E-Rank] passive trait activated, gradually restoring the Maryoku consumed during the manifestation.
There was still much to accomplish.
Jin would gather information. Mikhael would continue training, testing his abilities and developing the foundations of his power.
He had no intention of rushing into a confrontation before understanding the territory.
Strength without information was merely another way to die.
Outside, acidic rain continued to fall over the Underworld gutters.
Far above the slums, the pure-blood Devil families lived behind their fortified estates, confident in the privileges of their ancestry. The Four Satans maintained their authority over the realm, concerned with matters far removed from the lives of those beneath them.
None of them had any reason to look towards an abandoned shelter in Sector 4.
For now, that suited Mikhael perfectly.
He had no army, no territory and no name worth recognising.
But he had time.
And, unlike the people who ruled this world, he had no intention of wasting it.
The Sovereign of Desire had begun his ascent.
[END OF CHAPTER 2]