[System Log: Supreme Task System Integration Initiated…]
⸻
The sun crowned Kuoh Academy in molten gold, bathing the school grounds in warmth that clung like prophecy. Students buzzed through the courtyard, conversations light, laughter easy—until a certain pair stepped through the gates.
Rias Gremory, the crimson heiress of House Gremory, walked with the grace of sovereignty. Her vermillion hair flowed behind her like royal banners in the wind, each glint catching the sun as if it bowed to her. Her uniform was perfection: tailored to curves that defied logic, elegance sharpened into sensuality.
Beside her walked Issei Hyoudou.
No longer the bumbling, perverted boy who ogled gym magazines or peeked at the kendo club. There was a shift in him now—one only the observant would catch. His shoulders squared. His steps confident. His eyes, once glinting with teenage bravado, now burned with something deeper.
Resolve.
But the whispers still followed.
"Did she hit her head?"
"What is he, enchanted?"
"There's no way she's with him…"
He heard every word—and smiled.
"If they only knew what happened this morning…"
His mind drifted: silk sheets, warm skin, the scent of Rias' hair against his chest. Her breath on his neck. That moan—sweet, shy, and utterly real. And the way she looked at him. Not as a servant. Not as a pawn.
But as a man.
"Remember to come by the Occult Research Club after school, okay?" Rias said, voice lilting with promise.
He blinked, snapping back to the moment. "Yeah. I'll be there."
Her smile deepened—sultry, knowing—and then she disappeared into the crowd like a goddess into mist, leaving only her scent and heat behind.
A sharp chime echoed in his head.
[Notification: Task 2 Complete. Reward Granted.]
[Congratulations, Host. You have unlocked: True Dragon Bloodline — Your veins now carry the power of a Primordial Dragon.]
He barely had a second to register it before another message struck:
[Warning: Host evolution imminent. Pain threshold will be extreme. Retreat to a secluded location.]
[Timer: 10:00. Clean uniform en route. Scent erasure protocol initiated.]
Issei swore under his breath as heat licked up his spine. A fever was setting in—violent, alien.
"Shit. Gotta move."
He slipped down a side hall, ducking past empty lockers and out-of-service signs. His footsteps echoed as the storm inside him grew. Past the old gym. Rusted hinges. A forgotten storage room.
Perfect.
He threw the door open and slammed it shut.
Silence.
[Timer: 08:34]
Then it hit.
He collapsed to his knees, a scream tearing from his throat. Muscles tore, bones cracked—rebuilt under pressure like blades in a forge. His skin burned. Blood roared.
"GAAAGHH! AAAGHH—!"
His spine bent unnaturally. Vision blurred.
And then—images.
A dragon. Not like Ddraig or any fantasy he'd ever seen.
This one was apocalypse incarnate.
Its wings swallowed galaxies. Its roar sundered time. And its eyes—gold, ancient, terrible—gazed directly into his soul.
[Warning: Evolution nearing peak threshold.]
[Do not resist. Let the dragon emerge.]
Golden scales flickered under his skin like ancestral memories. Spectral wings surged—only to vanish. Fire hissed from his mouth.
Then—silence.
He collapsed, chest heaving.
[Transformation Complete.]
[Host has successfully integrated the True Dragon Bloodline.]
[Abilities Unlocked: Enhanced Physical Stats | Draconic Presence | Fire Resistance | Breath of the First Flame (Dormant)]
[Replacement uniform equipped. Evolution traces erased.]
Flat on the cold floor, drenched in sweat, Issei stared at the cracked ceiling.
Something lived inside him now.
A sleeping inferno. A god coiled around his heart.
He laughed—dry and low.
"That… hurt like hell."
But he felt alive. Every movement was clean, powerful. His senses flared—the scent of dust, the metal tang of rust, a bird flapping far outside.
He stepped toward a cracked mirror. His reflection blinked back—familiar and foreign.
His frame: broader, sharper.
His eyes: once muddy brown, now laced with gold, flickering like molten embers.
A grin curled his lips.
"No one's killing me again," he whispered. "Not Raynare. Not anyone."
[System Log: Evolution Protocol Complete.]
[Host inquiry recognized: "Why me? Why was I chosen?"]
Issei blinked. "…You heard that?"
[Affirmative.]
A beat of silence.
Then—
[Because my creator chose you.]
"…Who?"
[The Outer God of Stories. A being whose thoughts birth universes. Every fiction you have consumed—anime, manga, novels, games—they are fragments of his design. He has chosen to thread pieces of his worlds into yours.]
"Fragments?"
[Yes. Characters, powers, and destinies you once believed fictional… now live through you.]
"…Why?"
[Because a story becomes eternal only when reborn in the soul of another. You are that vessel.]
He stared into his reflection again, golden eyes steady.
"That's insane."
[And yet, you are no longer just Issei Hyoudou.]
The corner of his mouth twitched upward.
"No. I guess I'm not."
He stepped out of the storage room, the air still hot with something only he could feel.
The courtyard was loud again. Teenagers shouted, laughed, gossiped.
But this time… the atmosphere shifted.
A few students stopped talking. Others stiffened, eyes darting toward him. One boy paled and turned away.
They could feel it.
Even if they didn't understand it—they felt it.
Issei didn't slow down.
He didn't just walk anymore.
He moved like a predator among sheep.