Chapter 4 (Patreon)

The last punch sent the black-winged bastard on a short flight toward the rim of the fountain. I’d wanted a finale straight out of JoJo: elegantly putting my opponent through a fucking wall. But why wreck public property? Besides, there wasn’t a wall in sight, and I didn’t want to ruin the fountain. Kids played here during the day.

I caught that piece of trash’s rather stylish hat and strolled toward his softly groaning body, keeping half an eye on the girls who’d suddenly shown up. So which of us had they been following? Issei had changed, so maybe him. Then again, I’d felt someone watching me now and then, though I could never tell from where. Sometimes it felt like two people at once. What was this, National Stalking Day? Heh.

“How’re we feeling, Rooster-san?” I asked in my most insufferably superior tone.

Yeah… Those habits from the cultivation worlds ran deep. In my first few lives, I’d still tried to hold on to my old outlook and the way I used to talk back on Earth. But all that had quickly worn away through one rebirth after another. Some lucky piece of trash would lord it over me, then I’d lord it over some other piece of trash. On and on.

I had to give the winged bastard credit: he looked at me without fear. Shock, surprise, disbelief, anger—sure. But there wasn’t a hint of terror in the loser’s eyes. I could almost respect him for that. In past lives, I’d tried not to kill people who looked at me that way after losing. Teach them a lesson? Sure. Put them in their place? Without question. Make them show some respect? Absolutely. But kill them? No. I like people with a backbone.

“Who… are… you?” the winged bastard rasped through split lips. His mug was one big bruise, and I doubted things looked much better under his clothes. His whole body had to be hurting like hell. Still, there shouldn’t be any broken bones or serious injuries. I hadn’t even knocked out a tooth.

We’d been getting acquainted, you might say. Well, not we… My fists had been testing the limits of what his body could take. Once I’d figured out how well he could take a punch and how his innards stood up to my techniques, I’d laid into him hard. Made it hurt, too. Carefully, though.

“I’ll introduce myself when you manage to land even one hit on me,” I replied, still patronizing but with far less mockery, and turned toward the group of students from my school.

I wasn’t planning to kill him. Did I want to? I won’t lie—I did. His qi was rich and powerful, somewhat like Issei’s, though lighter in tone, closer to neutral. And, like my classmate’s, it had none of that demonic filth to it. Besides, what the winged bastard had shown me suggested there was plenty of useful stuff to harvest from his guts. For a haul like that, I’d have been willing to forget all about my opponent’s “backbone.”

But killing him in front of witnesses—let alone packing his organs into jars—was a bad idea. I hadn’t brought any jars, either. I could’ve “taken him prisoner,” then told everyone with a suitably sad face that the winged bastard had flown off like Karlsson on the Roof without even leaving a goodbye note…

But it was too soon. I still hadn’t figured out who these people were or what the hell was going on. Anyway, back to the new and familiar faces. With luck, they’d shed a little light on this mess.

I gave Issei one glance. He was frightened, stunned, and clearly understood even less than I did—which was strange, given his sudden increase in power. For now, though, he could wait. The four girls who’d appeared out of some kind of magical diagrams? Now that was interesting.

Stranger still, they held the top four spots in Kuou Academy’s unofficial beauty rankings. Gremory Rias was number one and headed the Occult Research Club. Himejima Akeno was number two and Rias’s vice president. Shitori Sona was number three and the student council president. Shinra Tsubaki was number four and also served on the student council.

What was this, a beauty pageant? All right. Let’s talk.

“A lot of life force, hmm?” Akeno studied Chiba Taro with a faintly mocking smile as he exchanged a few words with his defeated opponent. Behind him hovered some kind of phantom, arms folded across its chest, regarding the battered Fallen with a menacing, arrogant expression. It looked vaguely like Taro, only much bigger: completely bald, with a bare spectral torso rippling with muscle. “He’s practically a volcano of life force! And what kind of magic is that?”

“It’s a Stand!” Rias whispered in delight beside her. Only then did Akeno notice that her friend’s lofty, aristocratic expression had given way to pure excitement. The Occult Research Club’s vice president could have sworn the redhead’s irises were trying to turn into stars. “Sona! Sona-chan!”

“No,” the student council president replied, curt and unyielding. She had appeared in the park at the same moment as Rias and Akeno.

“Oh, come on, Sona-chan…” Gremory pleaded like a child, pressing her palms together as if in prayer. “He has a Stand!”

Sitri met her childhood friend’s gaze, and for a moment Akeno thought she was about to give in. The student council president looked briefly uncertain, but then her expression turned cold and serious again.

“No, Rias! We’re adults now. That doesn’t work on me anymore,” Sona said coldly, turning her attention back to Chiba, who was now facing them.

“Tch.” Rias’s cheek twitched in irritation, and Akeno nearly laughed.

“Hmph.” Sitri lifted her chin, making it clear she wasn’t budging.

“Lovely ladies,” Chiba greeted them as he approached, bowing politely. The arrogance and contempt had vanished from his face the moment he turned toward them. Now his face was a mask of calm, with a faint, friendly smile. Amusingly, the phantom dipped its bald head a little, too. “Issei-kun, are you all right?”

Akeno felt a little ashamed. She’d completely forgotten about Rias’s new servant while enjoying the whole “ORA-ORA” show and following the exchange between the two childhood friends.

“Huh? Y-yes, yes! Th-thank you, Chiba-kun!” Hyoudou started to get up from the ground, but when he caught Chiba’s icy stare and the phantom’s openly angry glare, he hastily corrected himself. “I mean, Chiba-san! Thank you!”

“You’re welcome, Issei-kun.” Taro smiled warmly and gave a slight nod. The phantom lost interest in Hyoudou and began casting curious glances at the girls. When it met Akeno’s eyes, it gave her a cheerful wink, making her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. “But you need to work on yourself. For a guy with your kind of power, you’re criminally defenseless. If you don’t make time to grow stronger, trash like that”—he gave a contemptuous nod toward the Fallen struggling to his feet—“will keep walking all over you.”

“Is that a Stand?” Rias couldn’t resist asking as she studied the phantom behind him.

“No.” Chiba smiled openly. It was the first time Akeno had seen him do that, though she’d hardly spent much time watching him. “It’s a Reflection of Might. But I can see the resemblance, yes.”

“Are you a monk, Chiba-san?” asked the heiress of House Sitri, adjusting her glasses with a graceful gesture. “I’ve heard monks in the Middle Kingdom practice something similar.”

“I’m not a monk, Shitori-san.” Taro shook his head. “I practice martial arts. But I can see the resemblance, yes.”

“Martial arts?” Akeno asked in surprise, pointing at the phantom. “What kind of martial arts let you do that?”

“ORA!” bellowed the Reflection of Might. It grinned at Akeno, clearly pleased with itself, then struck a bodybuilder’s pose to show off its muscles. Impressive, actually.

Chiba grimaced faintly at the shout behind him, and the phantom melted away.

“Please excuse him,” he said with a slight bow. “The Reflection of Might always has trouble keeping its emotions in check. It’s a good technique, but outside a fight it starts goofing around.”

“Does he have emotions?” Tsubaki spoke up for the first time. Her expression was as composed as ever, but her eyes betrayed her curiosity.

“A reflection of my emotions and my mind. Both distorted, like in a funhouse mirror,” Chiba explained with the faintest hint of a smile. “But, lovely ladies, please enlighten me. What exactly is going on? Who’s that piece of trash with the stylish hat? And who are you ladies, teleporting around like that?”

Was I bitching about the “culties”? Forget it. Cultivation worlds actually make sense. To me, anyway. Demons are vile creatures, and every encounter with them calls for full-on “annihilate your conversation partner” mode. Gods are bastards too, but you can negotiate with them and even come away without being turned into some vile eldritch horror, a cripple, or a corpse—as long as you show enough respect.

One law runs like a jade rod through everything in the cultivation worlds: the law of strength. Humans, gods, demons, mythical beasts—they all bow to the strong. That’s the foundation. The skeleton, with every creature in those worlds forming the “flesh” around it. The strong must be shown respect.

I learned that fairly quickly, though unfortunately not quickly enough. Stupid ideas I’d picked up from fanfiction and all sorts of comics tempted me to mouth off for a while. Not for long. Long enough.

Let’s put it this way: Prometheus, who had his liver pecked out, got off very, very easy. I learned my lesson. I bowed to anyone stronger than me, treated them with respect, minded my manners, and even groveled when I had to. Oh, yes. I can just imagine some people recoiling at that. They’d never do it. Better to die with your head held high than live on your knees. What a bunch of hypocritical bullshitters. They’re often too chickenshit even to disagree with their potbellied boss. He might dock their pay—or even take away their bonus!

In a cultivation world, though, if you’re the piece of trash who humiliated a Great Venerable, they won’t even let you die with your head held high. You’ll live! For years. Decades. You’ll spend years enjoying bamboo shoots growing through your body, then get healed up and go through it all again. And again, and again, and again… Until the “novelty” wears off. And just when you’re getting used to it, when even your screams have gone halfhearted… they’ll dream up some new “fun” for you.

So, my proud friends, if you ever end up in a “cultie” world, make sure you mouth off to a god first thing. You’ll have an experience you’ll never find the words to describe. Better yet, try a Great Demon. Those bastards know some very interesting party games.

Here on this Earth—which probably wasn’t even the Earth where I’d been born the first time around—some weird shit was going on. When Shitori Sona, who turned out to be Sitri Sona, a high-ranking member of something called House Sitri, offered to enlighten me, I breathed a sigh of relief. Gremory Rias, of House Gremory, had pulled herself together enough to start fussing over Issei like a mother hen.

I even let Sona teleport me, as a gesture of trust. But what she told me…

The teleportation itself worked on principles I didn’t recognize. It barely used any qi. I figured what I’d sensed was only one part of a process I didn’t yet understand. I could feel other kinds of energy around us, too, which seemed to support that theory.

It would be fascinating if this was magic. I mean actual spellcasting—the sort you see in Harry Potter—rather than some high-level array. I was eager to add something new to my arsenal.

For starters, she unfurled a pair of little leathery wings from her back and announced that she was a demon. I still don’t know how I managed not to laugh my ass off. If the Reflection of Might had been active, it would’ve dissolved into “ORA-ORA” hysterics.

Something must have shown on my mug, though, despite my best efforts to keep it impassive. Sitri-san started “reassuring” me that their bad reputation among mortals was wildly exaggerated.

And I… accepted it. A demon? Fine. Different world, different rules, different demons. They didn’t look like some cross between a slug, an insect, and a shoggoth. Just cute girls with little wings. That was actually a plus.

She could still have been something vile in an exceptionally good disguise, but the odds were close to zero. After what I’d gone through with the Staff of the Four Demons, I knew the stench of those freaks too well to miss it.

On top of that, the black-winged guy I’d just dominated turned out to be a Fallen Angel. He’d run into Issei and tried to whack the kid. Why? Turns out my classmate had been enslaved. I mean, he now worked for Gremory Rias-senpai and had been reincarnated as a demon. How, why, or what for—Sitri-san didn’t know. But the stylish guy had come across a lone, freshly “hatched” demonling and decided to bump him off.

The Fallen and the Demons hate each other. That’s the short version. The long version? It’s complicated. Then there are the Angels in Heaven. The Fallen got kicked out, but these ones are still up there, chirping away. Sometimes they shit on people. Pigeons, basically, only with bigger droppings.

Relations among all three factions are strained, to put it mildly. Bad blood, like I said. But there’s always a “but.” Ever since people—let’s call them people—learned to talk, they’ve been trying to talk things out. That’s where “it’s complicated” comes in.

The student council president gave me the broad strokes, explaining that bringing me fully up to speed would take more than a day. But she was clear, calm, and to the point. To Sitri-san’s credit, if she was trying to make her people look better, she was doing it with a light touch. I hadn’t caught her singing their praises. Not yet, anyway.

I was getting my ignorant ass educated in the student council office, where we’d teleported straight from the park. Shinra Tsubaki was there with Sitri-san and me. She’d kindly made tea for all of us and sat beside her boss, looking as serious as ever.

Her boss in every sense, by the way. Sona was the heiress of House Sitri. In the demon world, Tsubaki was her servant; at school, she helped her run the student council. She’d once been a mere mortal, but she’d accepted Sona’s offer, joined her… hmm… chess squad, and been reincarnated as a demon.

“Join House Sitri?” I took a sip of tea and thought it over.

I’d expected something like this ever since I learned Issei now worked for Gremory. I couldn’t imagine what Gremory Rias wanted with a guy whose only unusual trait seemed to be a raging libido, but she’d taken him into her service. And judging by a few things my classmate and his new “employer” had said, there hadn’t been so much as a job interview.

I suppose I was meant to be outraged, but to me it all seemed perfectly normal. A powerful woman had taken a weaker man into her service. All he could do was accept it and thank his mistress for not chaining him up and making him bark at a snap of her fingers. I’m dead serious. If I’d taken a guy like that into my service, it would’ve been as a jester.

Though I suspected there was something about Hyoudou Issei I didn’t know. Both Sona and Tsubaki had seemed oddly hesitant when they talked about him. And according to Sitri-san, an Evil Piece was far too valuable to waste on someone who was plainly dead weight.

Speaking of Evil Pieces: now there’s a hell of a power-up. I’d call one a Legacy without hesitation. Or a Great Alchemical Elixir. A Piece changes a person, turning them into a demon. It doesn’t seal away or block the abilities they had as a human, either. Quite the opposite—it makes them stronger.

On top of that, it grants an incredibly long life, near immortality. You get the demonic abilities shared by the whole race thrown in, too. The possibilities were incredible. Very, very tempting, if you thought things through a little more than the idiots who’d immediately start squealing about lost freedom and slavery.

A cultivator who’s spent decades breaking his back as a junior disciple in a sect knows a hell of a lot more about slavery than some people. And no Senior Master is going to sit him down for an interview and serve him tea. Trash should be grateful just for the chance to drink from the wellspring of wisdom, even if all he gets is a miserly trickle. And even that won’t come free. He’ll have to work himself ragged, straining so hard he could bite through rebar with his asshole.

There were two other interesting possibilities. First, I could work my way up to becoming a King in my own right, like Sona-san. Funny how all it took was getting stronger and making a name for yourself. Almost smelled like a cultivation sect. Then I’d get my own set of Pieces and put together my own party.

The second possibility was interesting too. Evil Pieces couldn’t turn exceptionally powerful beings into demons, and I had no intention of stopping my cultivation. There was a chance I could grow strong enough that my body would either “digest” the Piece or reject it outright. That was only a guess for now, mind you.

So much for eternal slavery, huh? It’s only eternal for lazy dumbasses and impatient idiots who want everything at once, and for free.

Sitri Sona was a very clever girl. I gazed thoughtfully into her beautiful violet eyes and caught the faintest hint of a smile behind that calm facade.

I didn’t know how she’d figured it out. Maybe she’d put it together after watching me for a few days and seeing me fight once. That was probably it. Earth was getting cramped. Too cramped to cultivate properly, and keeping my training under wraps was turning into a nightmare. Especially now that I wouldn’t be limited to human qi for much longer.

And House Sitri had made me a wonderful offer: training grounds in Hell, on clan territory under Sona’s authority. I doubted she had any idea just how good an offer that was. Access to Hell meant access to new ingredients, and judging by what I could sense from the two girls, there was no shortage of materials brimming with energy. That would open the door to mid-level classical alchemy.

It would take plenty of experiments and tests, of course, but I was more than confident I could find substitutes for some of the ingredients my alchemical recipes called for.

And all I had to do for this bounty was bash in the faces of the lovely Sitri Sona-san’s enemies and help her with House affairs and student council business. Pfft.

Somewhere deep inside me, the Ancient Practitioner was cackling in triumph and stroking his neat little beard. The naive girl was politely inviting a goat into her cabbage patch and asking him to eat his fill and butt heads to his heart’s content.

“And what am I supposed to do with it, Sitri-san? I hope this artifact isn’t used in some… unnatural way?” I eyed the scarlet Rook, which radiated qi mingled with something else. Shinra Tsubaki coughed, while the student council president gave me a restrained but triumphant smile.