DXD SI : Chapter 57 : Conservation of Energy? Pfft. What was that?! (Patreon)

Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters appearing in High School DXD or the Anime or the manga whatsoever.

Oppai Club

–Magdaran Bael–

It was all a haze to him at this point. He had long since stopped trying to actually hurt Thor here, because no matter what he did, the God of Thunder could not be moved. It was as if he was an immutable truth of the universe, one that he could not affect, even with his conceptual powers.

His fist was coated in his power as he slammed it right into Thor’s nose, only for a wall of magical feedback to hit his brain before it connected with Thor’s nose, stopping his full short strike.

He tried to make some sense of that wall of information, as he was then punted back into the forcefield. Even before he hit the giant forcefield that continued to flicker and repair itself continuously, he was already healing himself, to the point that a concentrated blast of his Demonic Energy aborted his momentum right as his back touched the forcefield.

His eyes sharpened once more, even as he felt a mental pressure that continued to add up the more he tried to comprehend this wall of information that Thor employed to just no sell all of his attacks.

“Again.” Thor simply said. The next moment, he was once again in front of the God, punching and kicking with all his might at the unmoving God in front of him, his power coming out in precise bursts covering just the point of impact, making sure that not a drop of his power was wasted needlessly.

He had learned that lesson rather painfully, when Thor had just broken through his full body cloak with a single finger flick, shattering it entirely, wasting a chunk of his energy for maybe a dozen times before something finally clicked inside his brain, and he began doing something he had never had the need to do in his entire life.

Conserve Demonic Energy.

In terms of energy expenditure versus the intended impact, he was probably unrecognisable from his past self. That part alone would make this whole thing worth it, but nope. Thor was not satisfied with just that. After drilling into him the basics of battle and the way a body has to move without conscious thought of the mind, the God had somehow taken it upon himself to teach the basics of Combat that even a whelp back in Asgard knows of, that were far more advanced than just the basics he was taught before. 

Those were the verbatim words spoken to him. It was as if everyone in Asgard was a combat machine. It frankly excited him a little, to imagine the combination of his power and the fighting style of the Norse.The unreadable static of magic, the wall of information was right there, incomprehensible to his senses, yet he could somehow anticipate its use now, allowing him to time his attacks just right.

He backed off a punch at just the right moment, allowing that dense power to dissipate harmlessly before punching again. More than once, he’d had to use his power on himself, shearing off most of the skin on his knuckles, just to make sure he didn’t make any contact with what was most likely Thor’s version of the OdinForce, or maybe it was something else. He didn’t know what it truly was.

What he did know was that it hurt like a bitch and immediately blasted him apart, to the point that he had spent a solid quarter of his Demonic Energy reserves just healing himself. It had gotten pretty fast too. The initial blow that had folded him in half now barely took a second instead of the couple of seconds it had taken beforehand.

It was such a simple thing to adjust as well, using precision strikes of his Demonic Energy to heal the injured parts instead of just flooding his body to heal places that were not even injured in the first place.

That too came with a moment of learning as he realised that he only continued to heal the parts where Thor struck him, instead of the mental damage that was steadily accumulating from having to read whatever it was that Thor used to protect himself from his blows. It was as if it was just a giant NO! sign in front of his powers that refused to let him pass and actually hit Thor.

The first few times they duked it out, or rather, he hit the man and then got hit hard, he thought he was actually hitting Thor directly, instead of this massively powerful energy field around him. 

Now, though? He could inspect the wound, inspect any mental effects, and heal himself of any effects before he was even on his feet after being zapped away by the powers of the God of Thunder.

Somewhat alarming was the fact that the God of Thunder hadn’t once used his signature lightning, or his hammer, both things that just made him glad that he was not bullheaded enough to pick a fight with Sirzechs Gremory. He did not want to find out just what a being who shared a list with the monster in front of him could do if he was motivated enough.

“You’re thinking. Again.”

He flinched, pulling back his kick at the last moment, using his power to injure himself just enough that the energy expenditure of healing that part was lower than having been blown back and having to heal the entire part from the blow. 

That didn’t do jack shit!

His eyes bugged out, feeling as if Thor was going to punch his internal organs out of his mouth from the force of the actual punch he had received for the first time in over a dozen exchanges, his power manifested in the shape of an anchor, drilling into the sparring ring floor, arresting his momentum before he hit the forcefield.

It was a matter of personal pride for him not to hit the forcefield, even after taking a direct sparring blow from Thor. After all, there was no winning here, so he had to invent his own method of winning, and that was not hitting the edge of the ring and being back on his feet to go for another round.

The Anchor did its job, stopping him just barely, only at the cost of some additional injuries from the whiplash, his mind automatically cataloguing the damage, and this time, the damage was purely physical; hence his power healed his torso, his internal organs, as well as his ankles that had been damned near shorn off because of the Anchor he’d manifested with his own power.

Now, one might ask, why was he doing that? If he could fly, as could most Devils, couldn't he just stop himself mid air? Or atleast slow down? Well, the answer to that question would be the sparring ring here. 

Somehow, the ring allowed Three Dimensional movement but only movement. You couldn't use the same mechanisms to arrest your momentum. It was some sort of hard rule embedded into the ring and the space around it, essentially creating additional forces that would act on his body if he tried to use his flight to stop himself. It only allowed flight if the starting point was a stationary point.

The Anchor disappeared as he shot forward once more, only to feel his entire mind seize up in alarm, an encroaching feel of Death making him blast out all his power, his feet instantly getting a handle on the sparring ring, and reading the concepts that restricted his movement and erasing them with some effort, before he’d shot back, right out of the ring, unconsciously erasing not just the air friction but also breaking through the forcefield, appearing at the edge of the door, his feet having carved grooves in the flooring, that were already in the process of being healed.

Kneeling on the ground, he panted, his body feeling as if someone had put some sort of restrictive armour on top of it, his body feeling drained in ways he had never experienced before, his mind flashing back to scenes of dying in a gory blast of bloody bits as…

He looked up with difficulty to see Thor looking down at him from the edge of the sparring ring, the forcefield nowhere to be seen, the hammer still attached to his hip, not in his hand, like he had expected it to be.

“Hmm. Passable,” the Odinson said in mild approval, and in that moment, he wanted nothing more than to go back to his Garden, burrow under the Mother Tree and sleep for days on end without having to ever think of what a horrible feeling it was to know that death was approaching, and not knowing how to deal with it. 

He hadn’t ever felt like this, not in such a way. Sure, there were some close calls, but he always came out on top. Even in the Holy Pit, he knew that all he had to do was blast out of the Holy impact radius and then let his body do the rest. The Demonic Beasts in the Pit were not even worth speaking of, as he could easily take pot shots and harass higher tier Beasts with the very nature of his power, let alone Beasts of the same power tier as him.

“What,” He huffed, standing up with difficulty, finally feeling the exact state of his body and wincing at the feeling of weakness that came with it, “Was THAT?”

“That,” He whirled around to see not just Odin, but Azazel, eating popcorn and looking at him from a yellow floating bubble, “was the feeling of certain death, brat. You would do well to get used to it.” Odin said.

Azazel then chose to pipe in, with a mouthful of popcorn still in his mouth, “Yeah, brat. I didn’t know you were so much of a wuss. I mean, even Vali has faced that multiple times in her short life, and I’ll have you know, she can now withstand that without fainting on the spot.” Azazel finished with pride in his voice, and he found himself grunting at that, relaxing on the spot as he no longer felt that Thor here was going to kill him.

Sure, he knew it was a slim possibility either way, but one would really have to feel it before passing any judgment. He knew he wouldn't judge anyone who would cry, terrified, and run for the hills at feeling Thor come at you with death in mind.

Hell, the God hadn’t even used his signature weapon, Mjolnir, from the looks of it, and that had been enough.

He truly had a lot to learn.

He flinched as Thor’s meaty hand landed on his shoulder, patting it surprisingly softly, as Thor parted with a few words, “Next week. Same time. Don’t be pathetic.”

Azazel chose that moment to snort, earning a death glare from him along with a ball of Destruction that erased the yellow floating viewing/displaying ball magic used for two way communication.

As if the Crow, as Thor called him, wouldn’t be past the moment Thor got serious.

Anyway, he exhaled as he realised that he now had a weekly appointment with Thor for sparring, a series of words he never thought his mind would string together.

Taking a moment to disintegrate the dried blood off him, he changed his clothing before going back up to the Bar level to get some reprieve and eat some good food before he had to go back to the Underworld.

He had a place to move his Garden to, so the next step was to inquire about the teleportation method and timeline from Serafall.

Things were finally moving along!