Me? Human? : Chapter 39 :Is that......ME?! (Patreon)

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

–Motohama Kenji–

His eyes snapped open, a gasp escaping his lips as he looked at the ceiling. Snapping upright, he didn’t even get a moment to marvel at this newfound feeling of absolute strength coursing through his body, as he was currently in a totally unfamiliar environment; the last thing he could remember was him plotting a way to punch Kokabile in the face, slightly happy that he was progressing at a much faster rate and then….

Then, nothing. It was as if someone had stopped recording memories after that, and he could only remember the sensations that came with the memories, instead of the actual memories. IT was incredibly bizarre, but he could feel sensations of pain, of triumph, of sadness, of happiness before his memories were filled with an overwhelming sense of exhaustion.

That was the last thing his mind could dredge up before he looked up, the door’s opening activating his senses, as he shot forward with all his might, intent on getting some answers, only for his eyes to widen in surprise as he found himself unable to move, but that was not the source of his confusion.

The source of his shock was his speed. The moment he decided to make a beeline to the opening door, his body decided to move, and it was as if the distance between him and the door did not matter. His mind willed it, so it happened.

He looked at his body encased in a yellow light, stopping him from moving an inch, even when he tried to escape using force, and realised that for some reason, the light was comforting, familiar. Instead of the light being constricting and suffocating, since it did look like it was skin tight in terms of restricting his movement, it felt fine, nice even.

Instinctively, he recalled the ability he had gained during the test, and called forth the Light Armour with a thought. The yellow force field that had manifested around his body had to retreat a bit as the White Light Armour superimposed itself on top of his body, now in a far different form than what he remembered it being.

Now, it was more akin to Scale Mail instead of just a thin film of light that covered his body head to toe. He had a visor, armoured implants around his limbs, and more. It honestly looked a lot like what Vali’s Divine Dividing would look like in its Balance Breaker Form. Intimidating and cool Armour aside, he looked at the yellow film still stopping him, and that irritated him.

With a flex, the Light Armour moved, trying to break down the light trying to keep him mobile, only to fail as the yellow light proved far more powerful than he expected it to be.

Then, in the middle of his flexing to get out of this statue position, he felt the Armour try to suck in the power of the magic keeping him at bay, and his mind just stuttered to a halt for a second before it came running back at full force, the implications making him grin with an evil smile, as he pulled forth with all his might.

“Ah, I see that you’re awake!” Only then did he realise that in the middle of his high speed attempt to get out of here, he had forgotten to look at the person who was responsible for opening the door, and probably waking him up as well.

He looked up and found himself staring right into the stupid smirk on one of the most annoying Blondes in the verse.

Azazel of the Grigori.

That was when it hit him. Where he was and why he had come here, and the reason he was in a hospital room, with very high strength and speed.

His test with Kokabiel must have ended early on, or maybe it had run all the way for two months, but he was just not there mentally to properly experience it.

Either way, as long as he was alive and had all his body parts intact, the fact that he was here conscious could only mean that he had weathered whatever it was that Kokabiel threw at him and had come out stronger for it.

Now, the only question remaining was: Just how strong? Just how fast?

He supposed that the answers to that question would depend on Azazel’s next words here. He probably had class leading equipment at Nephilim to measure the strength and speed of Sacred Gear wielders, and while he had none, he was probably in the upper percentile of Gear Wielders, at least when it came to strength.

With the addition of his new Scale Mail thingy, he could confidently say that he had added combat magic to his repertoire as well, as being able to magically armour up at a thought was definitely cool and adding to his overall threat level.

Stopping his struggle, he dispelled the Light Armour, looking pointedly in the Governor General’s direction, as the man snapped his fingers, dispelling the forcefield that had been keeping him suspended mid air awkwardly.

“I assume I passed the test?” Were the first words that passed his lips as he stretched out all his limbs, still feeling weird with all this new found strength. It was as if a thousand of his past selves had all been crammed into a single body in the span of a week, and now he had no idea of just how strong he was.

Hopefully, even if he was rejected here in the face by Azazael himself, he would have progressed enough with the test itself that he wouldn’t feel the rejection too much. It certainly seemed like he had progressed enough, and if Azazel was not a moron, which he was mostly not, then he should be able to see the value of that and–

“You passed the test. Congratulations!” He blinked as fireworks seemingly popped up out of nowhere at Azazel’s declaration.

He felt relief at the statement, as it could only mean that he was going to get even stronger as time went on, making it that much easier to give his mom a safe, supernatural free life. Even though it was going to be impossible to guarantee that no one was going to come to them with trouble in mind, it would be a hell of a lot easier to ward off any supernatural threats if he had, like, Super Devil territory strength.

Then, the relief passed, and he was reminded of the fact that he was not the only one who had chosen to take the test that day. He hurriedly asked about Asia.

“What of Asia? Asia Argento? She is the wielder of Twilight Healing, a Healing Type Sacred Gear.”

Azazel waved off his worries, “Ah, calm down, boy. She was selected for the institute far earlier than you. You are both admitted to Nephilim.”

His words made him sigh in relief, as that meant he had successfully changed the trajectory of her life, and hopefully, his newfound strength, which was still growing, would be enough to make sure that the trajectory was only for the better.

“Now,” Azazel then continued, changing the atmosphere of the room drastically, imposing a pressure on him that somehow felt both far higher and yet not as intimidating as when they first met. It was as if Azazel’s intimidation factor had decreased somehow.

Not dwelling on it, he focused on the next words that came out of Azazel’s mouth, “You must be famished, right? Let’s get something to eat. Come on, follow me.”

He blinked, the pressure having been withdrawn within a blink of an eye, as Azazel uttered those strangely friendly words, which in and of itself was not an anomaly, as Azazel had the same old switcheroo the first time they had met, but this time, the response from his body was far more muted than he had expected it to be. The pressure receding did not leave him heaving and gasping for air, as if a weight had just been lifted directly off his lungs.

It was a new development, and he was all the more happy for it, for it was just another method with which he could gauge the increase in his strength.

He nodded and followed Azazel out of his room, not before doing a quick survey of it and realising that it was just a generic room with none of his personal belongings present. Even though he had only come with the clothes he was wearing, as well as the Black Card that served as the portal to the admission test, even the clothes he was wearing were not his.

On second thought, it was obvious he would not have his original clothing, because he was in the middle of combat, for days on end, with the only breaks being food breaks, which were necessary to heal his body.

Well, he called it combat, but he was pretty sure that Kokabiel would call it an Ant running about, trying to dodge things it has no hope of ever surviving.

He imagined Kokabiel saying that in the most nasally, evil sounding voice possible. Alas, his dream of biding his time and growing strong rapidly in the span of two months by leveraging Kokabiel’s overwhelming strength to force his power to grow, and then reveal his White Armour as a trump card to somehow break Kokabiel’s nose and treasure that painful face in his memory for life, remained a dream.

Within moments, they were inside a cafeteria, but it was entirely empty, with food arriving at the table using magic, which was expected since this was a magical institute, and any other thoughts about any anomalous phenomenon here were pushed out of his mind as he focused on the one thing that his body suddenly demanded over everything else.

FOOD!

As he dug into the food with gusto, devouring an entire chicken within a few bites, eating as if he had never seen food before, Azazel waited for a bit before speaking up.

“So, you did quite the number on Kokabiel there.” The tone was light, as if he was discussing nothing but the weather, but the contents of that sentence made him pause mid chewing, blinking owlishly at the Fallen Angel, who had placed his head on his knuckles and was looking down at his eating form with the same casual, fake smile plastered on his face.

All he could do in response to that was…..

“What?!”

___xx__

A while later, when he had assured Azazel that he truly did not know what he was talking about, he was subjected to the footage of a figure armoured in White, not just clad in white but armoured in White, punching Kokabiel right in the nose, breaking not just the nose itself, but also a few teeth, before Kokabiel pushed him back with a veritable sea of Light Spears.

The odd thing about that was that he did not remember a single thing about it. Not the Big Ass spiked armour, not the Spear that somehow materialised and dematerialised in his hand at his will, not the fact that he had somehow surprised Kokabiel enough to punch the man’s nose in and break a few teeth.

All he could do was gawk at the footage, look at Azazel’s serious face, then back at the footage that supposedly showed him taking on a Cadre of all beings and somehow not just holding his own, but also injuring him.

It was all so….absurd.

Well, one good thing that came from being comatose and letting his body basically be piloted by his instincts was that he was treated to the sight of that ugly ass face getting his nose caved in, which made Kokabiel all the uglier.

That alone brought a smile to his face, prompting a snort from Azazel.

“I take it you don’t like Kokabiel all that much?”

He fired off with a question of his own: “Does anyone?”