Genichi's consciousness was violently kicked out of the crimson, burning mental world and slammed back into reality.
He drew a slow breath in, then let it out just as steadily, using the rhythm to calm the lingering aftershocks of the storm still churning deep in his soul.
Leaning back in his chair, he looked like a student taking a short break from listening to a lecture. In truth, all of his focus was submerged in introspection, carefully examining every change in body and spirit after devouring Ddraig's dragon soul.
Demonic power—this was the most obvious improvement.
Before, right after he'd been reincarnated as a devil, the demonic power inside him had been no more than a stream as narrow as a finger. It marked the beginning of something supernatural, sure—but now he could see it clearly: that "finger-wide creek" had swelled into a current five fingers across.
By rough estimate alone, the quantity had at least doubled or tripled.
And the quality of that demonic power had undergone a complete metamorphosis.
But that wasn't all.
He quickly realized that the vast majority of the power that had surged into him hadn't been immediately absorbed and converted into a fully controllable reserve.
His body was like a crude wooden bucket that could only hold ten liters of water.
And the power contained in Ddraig's dragon soul was like a sudden torrent being dumped in—instantly exceeding the bucket's limit.
The excess had nowhere to go, but it didn't spill and dissipate. Instead, guided by some strange rule, it began to reinforce the bucket itself.
He could feel it: power beyond what his body could safely bear was seeping in thread by thread—into bone, muscle, organs, blood vessels, and deeper still, into cells and demonic circuits.
This wasn't violent destruction.
It was a slow, continuous strengthening and remodeling, working outward from the inside.
His body was being passively—yet profoundly—tempered, becoming tougher, more resilient, more capable of containing and driving far greater demonic power.
And it wasn't a one-and-done change.
Ddraig's power was simply too immense. Even devoured and absorbed, it would take time to fully digest and fuse.
Right now, it was splitting into two flows: one portion directly raised Genichi's immediate combat capability, while the other remained as a reserve—constantly optimizing his fundamentals, widening the ceiling of his future growth.
He lifted his left hand slightly, thought flicking like a switch.
He could feel it—if he wanted, he could manifest it at any moment, summoning the Red Dragon Emperor's Boosted Gear.
And the sense of control was absolute in a way he'd never felt before.
As natural as moving his fingers. No lag. No resistance. No need to communicate—no fear of an internal will interfering or rebelling.
Boosted Gear was now an extension of Genichi's limb and intent, part of his soul's armament.
Ddraig's independent will was gone without a trace, leaving only the Sacred Gear itself: Boosted Gear of the Red Dragon Emperor.
"Ding-ding-ding—!"
The end-of-class bell rang right on cue, snapping Genichi out of his thoughts.
Once the teacher announced dismissal, the classroom instantly turned noisy.
Genichi packed up the textbooks he didn't actually need to carry, then stood—about to head for the Occult Research Club, just as he remembered.
But the moment he reached the doorway, someone stepped in from the hall, blocking him.
A blond boy in Kuoh Academy's male uniform.
Tall and well-proportioned, with features handsome enough to look like he'd stepped out of a manga. He wore a gentle, polite smile, blue eyes clear and calm.
Just standing there, he naturally gave off an aura of composed reliability—an elegant presence that made people want to trust him.
Yuuto Kiba.
Rias Gremory's knight, famous for his superb swordsmanship and his ability to create demonic swords.
"Hyoudou-kun," he said smoothly. "President Rias asked me to bring you to the Occult Research Club. If you're free right now, please come with me."
His attitude was flawless—courteous but distant, executing orders while keeping a measured line.
Genichi could feel it, too: the faintest trace of scrutiny in Kiba's gaze. Not hostile. Not friendly, either.
"Sure. Thanks for the trouble," Genichi replied.
He didn't elaborate, simply followed Kiba out of the classroom.
They didn't speak as they walked.
Kiba led by half a step, his pace steady. Genichi followed silently, memorizing the school's routes while continuing to acclimate to the new power inside him.
They crossed a few corridors, climbed a staircase, and reached a quieter upper-floor section of one of the buildings.
Finally, they stopped before a plain-looking oak door.
The nameplate read: Occult Research Club.
Kiba knocked. A muffled "Come in" drifted from inside.
He pushed the door open, then stepped aside, gesturing for Genichi to enter.
What lay beyond was nothing like the door's unremarkable exterior.
The room was spacious, decorated with a blend of classical luxury and modern comfort.
A thick, deep-red carpet. Carved wooden furniture with intricate detailing. Oddly styled oil paintings and decorations on the walls.
One side was taken up by a massive bookshelf spanning the entire wall, crammed with both ancient tomes and modern volumes. The other side held broad, soft sofas and a low tea table.
The lighting was gentle, and the air carried a faint scent of black tea mixed with some kind of high-end incense.
This didn't feel like a high school clubroom.
It felt like a noble young lady's private sitting room and study.
Genichi's eyes were immediately drawn to a small figure on the sofa.
A girl who looked like she was in middle school—or even younger. Short silver-white hair cut neat and straight. A doll-like face with almost no expression.
She wore Kuoh Academy's female uniform, a huge bag of snacks in her arms. She delicately pinched a potato chip between slender fingers, nibbling in small bites while staring at a handheld game screen with total focus, barely reacting to anyone entering.
"This is Toujou Koneko, a first-year," Kiba introduced gently. "You can call her Koneko."
Then, turning toward the silver-haired girl, he added, "Koneko, this is Hyoudou Genichi. He's also President Rias's peerage."
At that, Toujou Koneko finally looked up, her bright green eyes sliding over Genichi in a cool, indifferent glance.
No greeting. No expression change. Just the tiniest nod—so small it was almost imaginary—before she lowered her gaze again, returned to her snack, and radiated an unmistakable keep-your-distance chill.
Genichi didn't mind.
"President Rias is bathing right now. Please have a seat and wait. Try some of the tea I made."
The voice came from the far side of the room—clear and musical, with a distinctive cadence.
Genichi looked over and saw a tall, curvy girl with a long black ponytail trailing to her waist, carrying an elegant tray as she stepped out from a door connecting to an adjacent room.
She wore Kuoh Academy's female uniform as well, but on her it looked… unusually tense, especially across the chest. The buttons of her blouse looked like they were putting in overtime.
She smiled warmly, friendly and practiced, the curve of her lips perfectly measured. Her eyes moved with a natural allure.
She set the tray down on the tea table in front of the sofa, placed two steaming cups with graceful precision, then straightened, hands folded neatly before her, and gave Genichi a slight bow.
"I'm the vice president of the Occult Research Club—Akeno Himejima. Hyoudou-kun, welcome to the Occult Research Club. Yoroshiku."
Her voice was soft, her smile sweet, her manners impeccable.
"Hyoudou Genichi. Pleasure," Genichi replied, returning a polite nod.
But his gaze lingered on Akeno's smiling face for a heartbeat longer than necessary.
Something was off.
That smile, that tone, the way she subtly straightened her back, angled her body to show a curve as if by accident—plus that faint, teasing glint in her eyes…
What Akeno was giving off wasn't just welcome or friendliness.
It was more proactive than that. More covert—yet more deliberately seductive.
Like carefully blended honey, fragrant and irresistible. You knew it might be poisoned, and still you wanted to taste it.
Was it his imagination?
Or did the "Thunder Priestess" treat every newcomer like this?
As Genichi's thoughts turned, Akeno had already picked up one of the tea cups and walked toward him with a graceful sway.
"What's wrong, Hyoudou-kun?" She tilted her head slightly, putting on just the right amount of puzzled innocence, though her eyes flashed with playful mischief. "Is it different from what you imagined? Or did I scare you?"
As she spoke, she leaned forward naturally, offering him the cup.
And in that motion, her beautiful face closed the distance—instantly.
Too close.
Genichi could see each individual lash. He could smell her—a rich, layered fragrance mixing black tea with her own unique scent.
Her lips were a tempting color, slightly parted. Her breath was warm, nearly brushing his cheek.
Their noses were only a centimeter or two apart.
A little closer, and they'd touch.
This wasn't a hint anymore.
It was practically blatant teasing.
Genichi's body tightened at once.
A test?
A twisted bit of fun?
Or something Rias had instructed her to do—some kind of evaluation?
His expression stayed calm. He didn't step back, and he didn't show embarrassment. He only lowered his eyes slightly, avoiding too-direct eye contact, and took the tea from her hand.
"No," he said evenly. "Just surprised."
His tone was steady, revealing nothing. "It's more comfortable than I expected."
That settled it.
Akeno was absolutely seducing him—or at the very least, performing a heavily suggestive probe.
Holding the warm cup, Genichi's thoughts spun quickly.
As the newcomer, he was clearly the focal point. The thing being watched.
He took a small sip. The tea was rich and mellow, slightly sweet, with a faint fruity note.
"Akeno-senpai, your tea is really good."
He looked up at her again—at the way she'd straightened, still smiling at him—and returned a courteous, unbroken smile of his own.
Whatever game you're playing, whatever you're testing… I'll take it.
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