AIjh

I am not joking, before reading this fic I have to ask you to check that story, because (1.) This story is heavily inspired by his and I will not feel okay not crediting him for the general idea. And (2.) It is not only one of the best Highschool DxD fic I've read, its one of the best fanfiction I have ever read period. Don't know anything about Fate/Stay Night, the anime it's been crossovered with? Trust me, that will not limit your enjoyment of the story and vice versa applies for Fate fans who don't know shit about Highschool DxD.

The first time I read the story was before I got into Fate and I still enjoyed the fic, and after going through the anime I re-read the story and had even more fun when I got exactly what was being referenced and explained and stuff!

And similarly I am sure that many of you readers probably don't know about Tsukihime, but I would still hope you give this story a chance, because I have tried by best to create a piece of fiction that doesn't need prior knowledge of the VN and can be enjoyed by both those who know of it, and those who simply want to read a DxD fic with a badass and compelling main character who has a rich backstory that gets brought up and explored within the story!

Now, if you are still reading this, I am under the assumption that you're here after reading Fahad's story. So welcome dear reader, and without further ado—Please enjoy!

The knife found my hand,

and her blonde locks turned to red;

DEATH found her—not me.

.

.

.

As I enter the giant colosseum-like structure and come face-to-face with my opponent for the first time...I feel sick. Predicting the outcome of the fight, I want to tear out my heart which is already ready to burst. I already knew that I was facing a ridiculous enemy, but looking upon his affable smile really seals the deal for me.

It's not even a condescending or patronizing gesture on his part, his complete confidence in his belief of victory. For to even have a hope of winning you need at-least a 1% chance. But we both know, as well as the whole of the Underworld watching, that even that slight percentage is not in my favor. And as he smiles at me his friendly smile, that I am sure makes the ladies go crazy, his gaze holds nothing more than a hint of curiosity—and mostly pity.

Huh, I guess he's feeling bad about beating me in front of a live audience. I would expect him to take full advantage of the situation and take maximum enjoyment in bullying me and humiliating me completely, but I guess even Devils have standards.

"—And now it's finally time for us to BEEEEEGIIIIIN! Following age-old tradition, we have all gathered here to witness the debut match of the FIRST member of our fan-favorite Pink Satan's Peerage, that's right, he is none other than an Evil Piece of LEVIAAAAAA-TAN~! A never heard or seen before human-turned-Reincarnated Devil, and a QUEEN Piece at that...?! How intriguing~! Not to mention, the one who will be testing this underdog's mettle is going to be none other than the strongest Devil around, the SUUUUUPER DEVIL himself—"

I once again tune out the announcer's voice, and let out a sigh. Typical commentator behavior, going on another long-winded spiel right after stating that it's time to begin. But by no means can I claim that he's bad at his job—he's clearly an expert at hyping up the audience, if the up-roaring cheering is any indication of the excitement of the crowded stadium.

Though it's probably more because of the man in front of me waving up at the stands than any other factor. Flying cameras with tiny bat wings making sure to circle around him and capture every angle of his handsome and charming face to broadcast upon the giant screens fixed above the arena.

Most of the ladies, and an impressive number of men as well, swoon and go absolutely wild as he give a cheeky wink which gets repeated on every big screen at-least five times from different angles (I don't bother to count anymore after that), and I take this brief moment of respite to take stock of the situation I am currently in, one final time.

I closely observe the one standing in front of me, a creature so far beyond human, that I must not even register as a threat to him—its laughable, how far a difference is there in our base specs, even after my increased power from my Reincarnation.

He was possibly the tallest man I had ever met, probably closer to seven feet than six. Me, being only slightly taller than an average Japanese male, am practically a whole foot shorter than him. The crimson hair his clan is famed for fell down from his head and stopped around his shoulders, giving him a rather noble appearance. Blue eyes shone out from a handsome face, filled with such joy and open kindness that, along with his cheerful smile, made you instinctively want to trust him and smile right back.

For me though, his good-looks were more ghastly than noble. For I did not simply see with my eyes, but also sensed with my blood what lay beneath the facade.

I saw who he really was, what he really was. I know what lays hidden under that thin veneer of humanity that he wears like a second skin. Despite his human appearance, my gut warns me that thing is a disaster that just happens to have a human form. It is beyond arrogant of me to ever have thought that I could defeat him.

For the one I am facing is none other than the Lord of all Devils and the Crimson Satan himself;

Sirzechs Lucifer

It was hard to believe that this was the face of the Devil. Not when he laughed and smiled and waved so openly and casually, but I knew better than anyone what he was. This was a monster, the Lucifer himself. This was the Lord of all Demons and the strongest living Devil, one of the true rulers of the Underworld.

In my eyes his hair did not look noble, but disgusting, that putrid colour of spilled blood. His smile was as fake as his veneer of humanity, and his eyes to me were not beautiful, but rather terrifying. The shade of blue is a colour associated with calmness and tranquility—but it doesn't fool me, or my instincts and Nanaya heritage.

My head hurts and my heart burns, as common sense and irrationality writhe within my pressurized brain. My skull feels like it is cracking under the strain. Under these hopeless conditions, my heart pumps blood ferociously. My consciousness tell me to run. Telling me there is nothing more I can do here. There is nothing I can do to stop him. Any decent human would just look away.

... But I am no longer a human. I am a Devil now—someone who selfishly betrayed his humanity and every single ideal held by the noble Nanaya Clan, to become the monster he was born to exterminate. A demon hunter who sold his soul to the Devil... all for the sake of a single wish. That is, in other words...

—I cannot allow this. And if I have to fight this monster under these impossible odds to ensure my sister's survival... I am more than ready to do so!

And so I steel my resolve and meet the gaze of the Satan Lucifer as he finally turns away from his cheering audience and back to me.

My blood boils as I look into those warm eyes, as my heart beats even harder than it had when I was facing Roa. For at least the Serpent of Akasha had the decency to not pretend to be anything that he was not. He was a coward and a monster, and he embraced those titles with such openness that I had to respect his sheer audacity.

On some level, I suppose I was jealous of his sense of self, and ability to completely embrace the darkness that was in his soul.

And to see someone hiding that darkness so perfectly... just makes me want to flay his human skin, and peel it back to uncover the evil within for his adoring audience to see. My latent blood-Lust roars, and I willingly give into it for I need every edge I can against this creature—my sanity and sense of self are a small price to pay to wipe that smug smile off his face...!

All of the fear running down my spine transforms into anger. Transforms into sheer Wrath. I'm defective. A laughing stock. Far too immature as a person. After all, not a single atom in my body can tolerate just observing this being made of sin laugh so freely—!

.

.

.

"Don't get me wrong, Shiki-chan—There's absolutely no way you can ever even dream of beating Sirzechs in a fight! The chance of you winning is so low that it's not even zero, it's somewhere in the realm of imaginary numbers~!"

"But that's not what I'm asking of you, Shiki-chan; You don't have to defeat him—"

"—You simply have to kill him."

.

.

.

People say that you will always remember your firsts.

Your first kiss.

Your first date.

Your first love.

Your first time making love.

...Your first kill.

I guess I should count myself lucky, that my already overstressed brain does not need to remember separate people for each of these events.

For the woman who was my first love and my first kill were one and the same. The one whom I split apart into seventeen different pieces, the White Princess of the Moon, who walked into my life out of the blue to completely captivate my murderous heart and turning my world completely upside-down in the process. I know for certain that if I had never met her by chance of that day, my life would have been spared so so much pain.

And yet, if ever given the choice to go back to that point with the option to choose between meeting her or living an normal and ordinary life—I will always and forever choose to embrace the pain without hesitation.

For I cannot bear the thought of a world, where Tohno Shiki never got to see Arcueid's smile. For I cannot imagine a reality where I can look up at the night sky and gaze upon the moon, and not feel my heart swell with a bittersweet feeling that is too complicated for me to describe with words.

She—the vampire who was deep down hiding a human heart, who simply wanted to feel love and appreciate the simple joys of life.

Me—the human who was deep down hiding a beastly impulse, who simply wanted to maim and kill without mercy.

She—who couldn't help but want to drink my blood.

Me—who couldn't help but wish to end her existence.

She—who was created to kill, yet enjoyed life.

Me—who tried to live an ordinary life, yet relished death.

She—an innocent monster.

Me—a sinful human.

Two beings from completely separate worlds, yet inexplicably linked through fate.

Two people who could not be more different from one another, yet somehow unable to stop themselves from falling in love with each other.

The flower of the moon who even forgave a murderer like me—Arcueid called my killing of her a masterpiece, so I guess if I don't give my all to put to death the abomination in front of me, I'll be letting her down. And I certainly can't do that... So there only one thing left for me to do.

"—NOW LET THE FIGHT... BEEEEGIIIIIIIN~~~!"

That's right... I am not a fighter. I am an assassin. A killer. Worthless as a person, yet a murderer of the finest degree—in truth I am being quite hypocritical here, to be judging Sirzechs as harshly as I am. After all, I too am a monster with a human's face. Killing is as natural to me as breathing.

So with my frigid left hand, I raise the silver necklace—the last memento I have of my first love, and give it a soft kiss. A good luck charm, to remind me of the one who disappeared like the moon at dawn. With my right hand, I pull out my switchable and flick the ten centimeters of steel out of its casing. And then finally with a deep breath I steel my nerves...

...And take off my glasses.

( Music for the following scene—Tsukiuime Remake -: Mystic Eyes Awakening Shiki Theme )

.

.

.

Nine

The world is such a fragile place.

Lines upon lines. Their colour being a red so dark that it almost looked black in certain places. Crisscrossing with each other and intersecting on 'points' as they cover the ground, the walls, the people far away on the stands—everywhere, on everything. Living and non-living, it doesn't matter. What my eyes see are the conclusion of all things, the point where things easily die. Simply put, I see the fated end of all that exist... I see 'death' itself.

Sirzechs however looked the exact same as before with no lines on his body... yet.

After all, everything in this world will one day have an end. When that time will come might vary from one thing to another—but there anyway will be an end nonetheless. Death is not something that comes, it is with you from the moment you are born. Imprinted upon your very being and eventually it will manifest itself, following the rule of simple cause and effect.

The law of causality. Everything that has a beginning must have an end. Atoms just recirculate; following the law of conservation of energy. The System will not tolerate any discrepancies, not even the smallest errors. This predetermined 'demise' is the 'fated end' of all things. Since it's something that's there from inception, if you have the capacity to understand this conceptual fated end, as well as a brain whose transmission waves are tuned in to it, then it stands to reason that you'd be able to see it visually.

Eight

Arcueid had theorized that it's something akin to having eyes capable of noticing an intrinsic flaw in the atomic bonds of all things, or something resembling a telomere, a self-destructive genetic switch that manifests the cause of an individual's death.

Truthfully, here is no easy or logical way to define the phenomenon that is my existence—for I am a glitch in the System of the World, a being capable of seeing these lines that signify the end of all existence.

Normally, a living thing will die if you cut off its head. Conversely, you could say that a creature that can't be decapitated is un-killable and immortal.

But there is no true immortality as long as I live. For I can defy that rule—in a sense I can reverse cause and effect. Even if I am up against an opponent that can nullify anything thrown their way, I can trace the 'lines' or stab the 'points' only I can see and skip ahead and 'kill' them; An opponent that has been killed has to be 'dead' afterwards, right?

So its not that I killed them by cutting of their head—Rather, I kill them first, and their head becomes severed as a result.

These eyes and this life of mine can't be anything more than a mistake as far as the World is concerned.

Ever since that day, I've been shown the end of the world. Ever since possessing this cursed vison, I've been forced to grapple with the possibility that everything could fall apart at any second. As long as I am alive, I am surrounded by it. Smothered by these portents of death.

"I am shocked you've managed to make it this far if you see things like that. You must have a very tranquil heart, Shiki."

—Heh, what a joke. The only person to thank for me retaining my sanity even with my horrifying eyes, is that red-haired woman with the large brown suitcase who gave me my glasses—I wonder what would be her thoughts on my current predicament? Would Sensei be happy that my life got extended, or disappointed at me for what I had to give up for it to take place...?

Seven

I berate myself as I tuck in my glasses into my shirt's collar. I'm being foolish. I really am an idiot, to be thinking such unnecessary thoughts in the middle of a hunt. So I rid my brain of all unneeded thoughts, and focus simply on the one I am tasked with ending.

Nine seconds is all I have. Those are the last grains of sand left in my hourglass, the very short amount of time in a day that I can release my eyes from the prison of my Mystic Eye Killer—any longer than that and I risk my eyes exploding and my brain frying itself from an overload of information. The side-effect of overusing my eyes in that fateful month that changed my life forever.

But it is enough time for me to do what is needed, as I focus with all my might upon my enemy as I draw a long, deep breath. And with all my concentration, I go about discerning the weakness in his immortal body.

I am a sprinter ready to set a new record. I rejuvenate my blood and body by inhaling fresh oxygen, and relax my stiffened muscles as I shift my stance.

"Phhhuh—hahhh..."

I calculate the distance between me and my enemy. Barely five meters. More than optimal distance for a sudden rush and slash. I bend my legs and crouch, bringing my knife in front of me—ready to pounce. Ready to kill.

Six

A blink. That thing's eyes turn serious in that small moment; all his focus suddenly upon me, with none of the previous nonchalance present any longer—I swear that for a brief moment his eyes flashed red like a furnace igniting, and his pupils became slitted, before returning to normal. And the after-match of that brief glance leaves me with an actual physical pressure around my body that almost makes my knees buckle.

Instead, I glare back and suppress my urge to snarl at him, and focus again on my breathing. If he was a human I would have been impressed, but this is the least I would expect from the so-called strongest Devil, for otherwise I would have been disappointed.

Hardly surprising behavior for a creature that knows death as intimately as he does—no wonder the Crimson Maou's instincts immediately warn him of something changing. A sudden shift in the dynamic between the two of us. My designation in his mind just changed. No longer am I the harmless prey with whom he can leisurely play with to his heart's content.

Perhaps, it is because a creature with no regard for it's own life, cannot be called prey.

He instinctively understands of the arrival of a predator that feasts on monsters like himself.

Five

A man who knows he will die is a dangerous one.

I know that, the thing knows that, and so do the hundreds and thousands of insignificant creatures watching. So I relax my posture release my combat stance, and casually approach him like I am simply going on a stroll and taking a scenic path to school.

The thing scowls at my actions. All he needs to do to win, is to step out of my meager melee range and blast me to smithereens with an explosion of pure power—a feat he is more than capable of. It would be the same as a human swatting at a mosquito, an act as simple as that could snuff out my life before I could even understand what is going on—

—But that is impossible. For in the eyes of the Underworld I am perceived as less than an insect at this point, and retreating even half-a-step while facing off an insignificant creature like me is something a King can never do with the eyes of the kingdom on his being. Not when I am walking towards him while perfectly hiding my killing intent, and not letting an ounce of bloodlust leak out—to the outside world it must look like I am maybe walking towards him to banter before the real fight begins.

Earlier, I had made such an obvious show of getting ready to attack to gauge the thing's reaction. And just as I had expected, he had gotten immediately ready to retaliate. For then he could have made a counter-attack and not let my attack land—but with me not making any bold moves to conspicuously show an incoming attack, him striking me right now would be akin to striking dead an unarmed enemy.

Which would be not only dishonorable, but also be seen as a sign of weakness, which especially so in Devil society where power is so heavily coveted, is the very last thing a King will deliberately let his subjects see.

And I am going to use that opportunity to its fullest.

For that thing is something that should not be tolerated.

That thing is something that cannot be allowed to go unchecked.

If my means are ignoble, then so be it. Honor is a currency only the strong can afford to pay—and if that thing is capable of killing me, then it's obvious what I must do. If you don't want to die, then kill first. Kill for the sake of survival. Kill that thing right here, right now without waiting another second.

Four

There was a time when I used to ask myself if I could kill a person that looks like a person, whether or not it is actually human.

—But it doesn't matter now. I banish such unnecessary questions, for my head simply hurts right now. And the only way to ease it, is to kill without discrimination. To revel in the hunt, and see the fear in my prey's eyes as it realizes its end is nigh.

He simply waits for me to approach me. He is still confident in his victory after all—to him, this is just a game. A more dangerous game than what he was initially expecting perhaps, but his resolve remains strong. He just wants to test my strength, and so he stands back and waits for my attack.

I've pretty much run out of patience at this point. That thing must have killed, robbed, and destroyed without a second thought to have grown so strong and to have lived for so long.

As a fundamentally different organism, I cannot allow him to reside in the same plane of existence.

Whoever or whatever it may be, if it's alive then it is my prey.

Nothing can stop me from claiming my kill, not even death itself.

Right here and right now, I'll put an end to the core of his very existence...!

An inevitable predicament. A losing battle with no chance for victory. Even if I kill him, I am sure a monster like him can kill me somehow after that. A situation where I will die in the end, no matter what. My blood runs cold as I acutely comprehend my incoming death...

... So why am I still smiling at a time like this?

.

.

.

Three

I like bees. I would even go far enough to say that I respect them more than most humans.

They are small and colourful and appear harmless, yet they are perhaps the most dedicated creatures who are willing to sacrifice everything to defend their hive, to defend their home. Once they attack someone they acknowledge as an intruder and the stinger is injected, it keeps stinging, even after the bee has died. It has a cluster of nerve cells that control muscles on the stinger, and the barbs continue to move back and forth, which causes it to move deeper into your skin to cause the maximum amount of damage and spread the venom as much as possible.

Like a honeybee that dies after it has stung its target once, I am willing to give up my very life for even just a chance of ending this thing in front of me—and even after I die and my consciousness fades away, as long as my body can move it will continue acting on instinct only as a tool of spreading death, like the stinger of a bee to inflict the most harm upon this despicable creature.

Two.

... I don't know how he stacks up as a person. As a king, as a son, as a brother, as a husband, as a father. I don't care to know.

But as a murderer, he is extraordinary. I can instinctively tell, being one myself. So I can't help but hate him.

... For how dare he wordlessly claim to be a better killer than me—!

An animalistic urge surges from deep within me. A dreadfully thrilling mixture of excitement and terror. My reservations and human nature no longer hold me back, as my inhumane nature fully takes over. I am a killing machine that works on raw sensory input alone. Morals and values and ethics no longer matter—The only thing I need to focus on is capturing this monster's line and ending him once and for all...!

No need for flashy moves, after all, even after so much time looking I could only find a single line on his being. So I twist my body and slash from down to up—transferring the kinetic energy from my thighs to my waist, from my waist to my back muscles, and from my back muscles to the swing of the knife in my right hand only a single time. To trace my blade from right to left, aiming for the very faint single line that starts from his waist, and ends at his armpit.

One

Having already abandoned all thought, I move through sheer instinct. Any immortal being, any monster, could be 'killed' by a single strike. It is none other than the end of the universe, the most repulsive thing in the world for a supposedly immortal being like the Crimson Satan, and the though that I am the one to bring this fate to this monster fills me with unimaginable glee, as my grin grows wide enough to show fangs and a single sentence is all I can utter before I feel my body automatically move with the intention to kill—

.

.

.

"It's showtime, Lucifer."

"Ah, hope you'll excuse me for a bit here, So-tan~! Looks like someone's gonna have to save that playboy from going completely overboard!"

But Sona barely heard her elder sister's voice or the fact that she released her wings and flew forward so fast that to a non-Super Devil it practically looked like teleportation. Her eyes were completely glued to the scene that had just taken place in the middle of the arena, so enthralled she was that she didn't even notice the hairline fracture that appeared on her glasses from the sudden surge of pure power.

A blazing inferno. A volcanic eruption. A nuclear explosion.

The birth of a crimson sun.

No words were enough to describe the exact event that took place—so it's better to take notice of the results of the sudden flare of Satan-level flames in the stadium. The stage shook violently and the deafening sound of the explosion left most of those present with ringing ears—and in some cases even bleeding ones.

Even through the invisible magical barrier surrounding the arena, boasted to have been created by the best warders in the underworld, the audience still felt the intense heat and shockwave from the blast. Many of the weaker Low-Class Devils sitting closer to the arena were now sporting no eyebrows and a case of a nasty burning tan. The sensors where fried, and the giant screens broadcasting the fight only showed static as the hundred meter wide and equally tall flaming scarlet storm raged—

—Before suddenly the tornado of fire collapses in on itself and is completely gone, and in its epicenter stood the Maou Lucifer; standing tall and proud and holding a knife in his hand...

... A knife soaked in the blood of the King of Devils.

"He... he is a monster." Sona didn't even realize that she was speaking out loud—her complete focus lay on what she was seeing, and even her impressive brain was reeling from trying to figure things out and the consequences that lay ahead for the future of the Underworld, Devil Society and her sister as a whole.

Sirzechs is widely considered to be the strongest Devil in existence, his strength is so acclaimed that most people actually consider him invincible, maybe even immortal and untouchable. And while that is for the most part not true, it is a useful image to have. As the public face of the Christian Underworld and the New Devil faction as a whole, he is needed to be viewed as a perfect and unmatched being.

Between the four Satans, he is considered the strongest and hence the de-facto 'king' of the Underworld despite it being an official democratic rule between the Maous and the Elder Council. Despite the possibility that Ajuka Beelzebub may actually be every bit as strong as him with Serafall coming a close third, all the higher ups agreed to make Sirzechs as the new poster boy for the New Devil faction when the war ended, so they did their best to bolster his admittedly already high reputation.

And now that reputation has just been tarnished, and the status quo has shifted in a way that is sure to have major consequences going forward... and of-course her elder sister had some hand in it, Sona frustratedly thinks as she glares down at Serafall Leviathan standing next to Sirzechs and while twirling a delicate ice parasol whose edges were lightly burning in crimson flames, completely unharmed while holding the unconscious body of her Queen.

"Wow, Sirzechs-chan, you really did go serious there—I haven't seen you pull out that move since the Civil War!"

Her shameless grin really cements the fact for Sona, she elder sister had absolutely planned this from the very beginning!

"... That was not a conscious move, but an automatic self-defence mechanism, as normal and reflexive as it is for a person to close their eyes when faced with a bright light source," The Crimson Maou says almost as if in a trance, not hearing his fellow Satan's voice as he turns the blade over in his hands and examines it. "Almost completely ordinary steel—an alloy of iron, carbon and silver with some slight holy elements in the mix, but while it may be effective against lesser demons, for it to have pierced my body... This is not a miracle. But neither is this common sense. This feeling... I had almost forgotten how it felt. The chill of death."

And finally at those words, all hell broke loose. Literally and figuratively, as the audience that had until now been stunned into silence started shouting. Louder than ever before—exclamations of shock, questions of what exactly just happened, confirmation that what they just saw was real and not an elaborate prank devised by the Satan Leviathan. Did they just really see the strongest Devil in perhaps all of Devil history get injured by a newly turned Reincarnated Devil?!

"So... I assume our deal is still on, Sir~Zechs~chan~~~?" And despite it all the two strongest people present continued on their conversation as if no one was watching. In response to Serafall's question asked in her signature cutesy and teasing tone, Sirzechs's eyes drifted to the boy as if properly seeing him for the first time... before grinning in a way that Sona just knew would be printed in the front-page of the next day's Devil newspaper and will be trending in the Underworld's social media by the end of the hour.

"He who voluntarily faces his own demise deserves to evade it. He wasn't about to sacrifice himself for the greater good—he was ready to sacrifice himself out of spite for his enemy and love for his family... and I respect that! Very well then Serafall, you win!"

And with a laugh he steps forward and raises the hand of the unconscious black-haired boy, like a referee of a match, before speaking in a magically amplified voice that drowns out the screaming from the stands—

"—Hear me, one and all! I, Sirzechs Lucifer, the Crimson Satan and one of the four rulers of the Underworld hereby use my authority to grant newly Reincarnated Devil, Tohno Shiki, the rank of Ultimate-Class Devil after evaluating his powers, and his very own set of Evil Pieces for him to form his very own Peerage as a special bonus on my end!

And for the great deed of actually injuring me, I suppose I should honour him with an equally great title, an epithet to remind the world of his momentous achievement that granted him this rank; I name him to be..."

"Crimson Cutter."

Yes, the story is going in a very similar direction as Demon Lord's Hero did, but trust me, things will change soon enough. At the end of the day, Shirou and Shiki are different characters with vastly different personalities and motivations and the way they go though solving problems. So don't you worry, things will deviate soon enough (for the better? Hehehehehe~~~)

Also, if you have a better (more embarassing yet kinda cool) title/nickname to give my boi Shiki after the fight, please leave it in the reviews.

Please leave a review sharing your thoughts on the chapter, it would mean the world to me. It is what motivates us writers to write more. And thank you for reading so far, I hope you enjoyed it and hope you read the next chapter as well, so until then—Adios!