Transmigrated With A Time Chamber In DxD

But if Masaru chased her…she feared to think what would happen. It was why under no circumstances will she allow Masaru to leave here alive…

*Crack!*

…even if every single bone in her body was broken. The pain was threatening to drive her mad, yet she endured.

As the tears silently streamed down her face, she only had one request to any god listening to the pleas of her heart.

[Please…as long as my daughter lives.]

.

|DxD|

.

Just before the hunters arrived at Shuri’s home

.

Masaomi was lying in a puddle of his own blood, his wounds grievous and his body in a critical state. Six more of his comrades lay strewn about with only one difference between him and them. He was still alive, but barely hanging on.

His abdomen was completely crushed, his ribs digging into his organs. His entire midsection was a complete mess with even his abs appearing to be in disorder. His stomach area was especially red due to veins bursting and contributing to his internal bleeding.

Yet Masaomi still stubbornly clung to life. He held on to Hauteclere, the only thing preventing his entire body from being consumed by the flames of the Himejima clan. He was using the sword’s ability to purify the flames ravaging through his body. Although the flames were not dark by nature, the ones using them were. Furthermore, the holy aura from the sword had the affect of driving out the flames, allowing him to slowly heal.

It had been over ten minutes since Masaomi had been lying on the ground. With the little magic he had, he was able to stop the majority of his internal bleeding by ‘burning’ his internal wounds shut with his magic. It was all he could do to make sure he would not die before delivering an update on the Himejima.

It was of vital importance that he notified his superiors of the existence of a god class fighter. Masaomi himself had already stepped within the ranks of ultimate class. The combination of dedication and an extreme affinity for Hauteclere allowed him to advance a lot in these last few years. But ultimate class entities were not worth mentioning in front of a god class. Despite his best efforts, he failed to make Masaru break a single sweat.

As such, he had to get to the church first. Yet any communication devices they had were crushed and he certainly didn’t have enough magical energy left to release a distress signal.

So left with no choice, he began pushing himself off the ground.

“Ke…ki…argh!”

He couldn’t help but vomit blood. The effort alone had aggravated his injuries, causing the pain to be so blinding that he lost strength in his arms.

*Doof*

He slammed back into the ground, a blood-filled cough exiting his mouth upon landing. Masaomi was tired and the adrenalin he had was gradually exiting his system, leaving him exhausted and floating between consciousness and unconsciousness. That same pain that was being numbed by the adrenalin was coming back in full force. And with how crushed his abdominal region was, the pain he was feeling was immense.

And so he had no choice but to lie there in agony, barely having enough strength to even groan. His fight with Masaru had already taken a lot out of him before he even got hit with that final punch that almost ended his life.

Even now, Masaomi felt great sadness at having lost his comrades. Their corpses lay all around him, adding further toil to his mental state. At this point, the man felt like giving up on life. He was already an orphan with no family to speak of. His only best friend lay dead just a few metres from him, his death still fresh in his mind. The tears that he had been holding back during the fight clouded his eyes. The anguish he felt when he saw their corpses crash onto the ground like ragdolls was rising up like a volcanoe. Those horrifying scenes of complete helplessness at the death of his comrades came rushing back like a torrential wave that wanted to batter his already worn state of mind.

Masaomi...truly couldn’t hold it in anymore.

“Why…”

The tears began flowing out of his eyes. Like the first trickles of a shower, the amount gradually increased into a steady stream that had no gaps. There were no choked sobs, no wails, or moans. Just the sounds of teardrops hitting the bloody concrete.

With his eyes covered by a misty curtain, all Masaomi had in his heart was a question.

“Why did this happen?”

Too many things had happened in a single night for his mind to process. The adrenaline had worn off and the reality of the situation was gradually hitting him. His will to survive was waning, his grief fueling his desire for a permanent rest.

Masaomi was an experienced exorcist. Having turned 24, he had went on a lot of missions over the years. Yet nothing compared to the horror he witnessed when he fought Masaru. The man overpowered them in every single way possible. And worst of all, he toyed with them.

Oh how Masaomi wanted revenge. He was so desperate for it that he was willing to do whatever it took.

Yet, he knew his body, his fate.

[I’m…I’m going to die.]

It was a heartbreaking thought for a young man in his prime to acknowledge. As one of the future talents of the church, Masaomi had a bright future in front of him. He was a certified holy sword wielder who was acknowledged to be one who could potentially rise to the heights of Sir Oliver de Vienne, the first wielder of Hauteclere. Yet that was all about to become a simple dream.

His previous attempt at sealing his wounds failed the moment he tried to get up. As it was, he was slowly bleeding out and there was no hope of help arriving before his demise. Thirty minutes hadn’t passed since their last update to the church. So for atleast the next ten minutes, no one would be coming to check along their route.

The only reason why no one, including the devils received any news of the fight is because of the ward that was silently erected to lock in any energy that was released during the massacre inside. Even Masaomi only realised it much later that there was a ward surrounding them the entire time.

It irked him that he couldn’t sense the ward activate or notice the barrier covering them until he was down on the ground and left for dead. Unfortunately, there was nothing he could do in this moment.

As he neared his dying breath, there was one wish that he had in his heart.

“If only…I could see Cleria-nee. Just…one…last…time.”

It was a sincere wish from the bottom of his heart. He had come to cherish the woman over the last few times they talked. Although his heartfelt confession over two years ago was rejected, he had come to see her as an elder sister that he never had. The void that she filled in his heart warmed him greatly and had given him another reason to live.

It was why even in his last moments, he truly wished to say his goodbyes to the only sister he ever acknowledged.

“Cleria…nee…”

A single tear rolled out of his dry eyes, and with it, his dying breath…

.

.

.

.

.

.

.

Silence…

SHIIIIIIIIIIIING

A magic circle suddenly formed in front of him, the clear symbol of the Belial clan within it. When the light faded, it revealed Cleria who immediately revealed a horrified expression.

“Masa-chan!!!”

Cleria rushed forward without thought and placed her hands on his body. She did not care in the slightest that her hands, her dress, her shoes, and even the tips of her hair were dirtied in blood. Pure concern was visible on her face, the horror of the situation getting to her as she realised that Masaomi was already dead.

Her bloodied hands trembled for a moment, her gaze taking in Masaomi who died with his eyes open. There was a clear trail of tears on his face which only served to summon Cleria’s own tears. She couldn’t believe that just by temporarily leaving Kuoh on official affairs from the Underworld, so much would happen in just a few days. It was such a coincidence that Cleria felt it likely wasn’t. The fact that she and her entire peerage were summoned to the underworld only served to further enhance her suspicions. But, this wasn’t the time nor the place. Masaomi’s soul would dissipate soon and Cleria was going to make sure she didn’t.

Reacting quickly, a small white light formed in Cleria’s hand before it revealed a mutated chess knight piece. It was her only piece left that she got from her cousin, Diehauser. It was supposed to be used in securing her a powerful dragon from dragon mountain, but she couldn’t care about that anymore. Right now, the most important thing to her was reviving Masaomi before his soul truly passed on.

Placing the piece to his chest, she deeply hoped it would work.

“Please work. Please work. Please work.”

She watched as the piece descended into his chest, yet there seemed to be no further reaction.

“...”

Despair was threatening to settle in, her heart refusing to accept that reviving Masaomi was about to prove impossible. By now, a reaction should’ve happened proving that the process of reincarnating Masaomi into a devil was either successful or a failure. But for the next few seconds, nothing happened after the piece sunk in.

Yet before all hope was lost, there was suddenly a red-black light that emanated from his chest. The light was intertwined with layers of golden radiance before it finally receded. The radiance was so bright that it had released a pillar reminiscent of an upside-down pyramid.

This was a phenomen that Cleria had never encountered before.

“What…”

Before Cleria could even begin to decipher why she didn’t feel any connection with him that would signify their connection, Masaomi shot up from the ground like a spring, his power overflowing. It was like an uncontrollable surge that even pushed Cleria back.

There was a mix of gold and blue aura surrounding him like a cloak of flame. It was another phenomenon that Cleria had never seen before. There was nothing even within the books she had read.

But before she could process THAT phenomenon, another thing happened.

Tswii!

Igor appeared.

.

AN

.

If you’re interested in reading ahead, here’s the link: [email protected]/HolyGambler

Replace the ‘@’ and ‘0’ with ‘a’ and ‘o’ respectively. Or just search for ‘HolyGambler’.