TSSG - Chapter 1 : Decidedly Dead, Memory Gaps, Powers & Ambition (Patreon)

New Story - The Survivals of Shin Gremory [A pre-Civil War Gremory SI]

Premise - 

SI into a low class Gremory into Pre civil war Underworld.

Shin does not know he is a Gremory. He does not have memories of a vast majority of his life. The Gremory cannot publicly acknowledge him, so he is given a job in a supposedly safe space.

The Civil War approaches.

And an entirely new soul now inhabits the body of one Shin Gremory.Metaknowledge with some perks - Shenanigans ensue!

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

Somewhere in the Omniverse

–?--

“So…..I am dead?” The disembodied voice asked the massive being in front of it. The being was shapeless, formless, and was pretty much composed of rotating galaxies that continued to give birth to and kill stars that gave the being its bling, so to speak.

Even though it was impossible for the being to do so, the being gave off the impression of nodding, “Yes, quite decidedly, I’m afraid.”

The disembodied voice was quiet for a while before voicing this question: “How did I die? And who are you? Where am I? Why am I not feeling the panic I should?”

The massive being chuckled, the mere action causing a few hundred of the stars within its body to die abruptly. “In order - You died because you choked on something in the night, slipped out of the bed to get your airways cleared, only for you to slip on your dog’s pee and land headfirst into the cheap plastic table you had with the sharp edges, killing you instantly.

I am what you might call an ROB. You are in between worlds, a space accessible exclusively to ROBs of a certain level and above. And lastly, panic is the result of hormones and biology. Seeing as you have neither of them, you are safe from that feeling.”

There was silence in the area for a while once more, though it was getting harder to tell because the concept of time was a mishmash in this space, before the voice spoke once more, “I see. Thank you for telling me. I can tell that you did not have to. So, what happens now?”

The being was silent before something separated from the being’s body, a tiny sparkling star that transmuted mid air, before zooming straight towards the disembodied voice, “Now? Now, you entertain me.”

“Wha—-AAAAAAA!” The disembodied voice screamed as it felt the violation of its being, before it could simply not perceive the reality around it.

___xx___

“AAAaaaa…….” He woke up screaming, his head throbbing before the pain simply went away, leaving him a bit unbalanced, before he looked around his room. It was dark, and yet he could clearly make out his training equipment, his uniform, his clean clothing, and more, just strewn about his room. 

He hadn’t had the opportunity to clean in months, as he was just too busy working in the Capital. Sure, the pay was bad, there was no downtime except for sleeping, and the work too was borderline unpalatable, but there was atleast safety here.

The rumours of a new War had reached even him, down in the low levels, and he was terrified of ever having to fight in those grisly wars. He had never seen the horrors of the war himself, but had met plenty of Devils, seemingly abandoned after losing most of their bodies in the war.

Most of them were even looked at with disdain, as everyone around them preferred to them dying rather than living as a waste of space.

Even Uncle Theo, who was just a—-

His thoughts stuttered to a halt, as he realised what he was thinking of, and in what world he had found himself in. The Devils, the Satans, the Great War, Lucifer, Lucifaad, the Satan Descendants, the Civil War and more.

His vision swam as he realised what that head throbbing was and how he’d managed to make it go away so quickly.

As the realisation set in, he simply ran to the bathroom and puked his guts out: the terror, the stress, the realisation that not only was he dead and would never ever get to see his friends and family again, but also that he was given a second life in perhaps one of the most deadly worlds, and in a time period that was deadlier for all Devils.

The fear of being ganked by some uber powerful precog made his entire body shiver as he continued to dry heave until there was nothing left. The fear of beings so much more powerful than him finding out that he existed and had all these sweet, juicy tidbits about the future made him close his eyes and pray to God–

“Ow! Son of a bitch!” He swore, as a lance of pain seemingly stabbed him from the inside of his head. He saw double for a while before his hand touched his nose and found blood there.

So, even thinking of Him was a crime?

And to this extent?

The pain took a while to subside, but when it did, it just left behind a gaping void in his mind, as he just lay there, in his bathroom, struggling to think ahead. What did he want to do now? What could he do now? What was the next day going to be like when he had to go back to work?

He could maybe skip a day or two before his money ran out, but by then, he would not have a job to go back to. And the only reason he had been able to get this dwelling was that he had a secured job in the Capital. Sure, being the janitor was not the most glorious of jobs, but someone had to do it, and the ones at House Gremory were really generous and gave him this job.

Before that, he was….

His brows furrowed as he tried to think of what he was doing before he was working at House Gremory. Their embassy in the capital, so to speak. Every pillar house worth their weight had a House in the Capital, that was seldom used but had to be staffed, cleaned, and look like royalty levied there at any point in time.

It was a no nonsense, steady, and more importantly, safe job. Nothing like the horror stories he had heard about low class devils working as servants in the Satan Houses, or even the Six Houses of Lucifer. Those were really hard and nasty jobs, as they had a very high turnover rate. And that turnover was not because people kept quitting. It was because people kept disappearing, especially those in the employ of House Lucifuge. 

Atleast, they knew what happened to the people who worked in other houses. They were promptly killed on the spot, as it was part of the onboarding procedure to tell any new employee that it was better to kill themselves if it looked like they were about to be punished, as some of the Devils there could come up with really creative punishments. Death was preferable to that.

He shuddered, remembering the remains of that one devil that were left strung up on the gate of House Lucifuge, suspended in a brand of magic that kept the Devil alive and in excruciating pain for months before the magic was allowed to run out, finally giving that Devil the sweet release of death.

Seeing that single event had made him jump into his current role, without ever questioning why he was getting it despite not being a member of House Gremory, why he got a house provided by House Gremory, in a really good part of the capital, and how his daily expenses were mostly taken care of even if the salary itself was pitiful.

All those questions rang in his mind as his mind hit a wall of some sort, where it simply could not recall what had happened before he was employed at House Gremory. He had a few people he knew by name, many places he could tell he had been to before, and a few other experiences that told him that he was older than he should be, but no memory of what he was really doing at the time.

It was all so painful, as he tried to navigate the labyrinth that was his mind, except the labyrinth had a wall smack dab in the middle of the path, one that he could not move at all.

In the end, all he could do was lie there, slumping against the wall of his bathroom, looking up at the light in the center, with blurry eyes and an exhausted mind. 

The experience of meeting that being, the memory of which was faint, to becoming a Devil, a low class one at that, working a menial job at one of the most famous houses to anyone who had ever seen the DxD franchise, was just too much for his puny mind.

Merged with a devil, he might be, but he just—

Just before his neck could loll off and he could pass out, his gaze locked onto the mirror, the sink beneath it, and what was placed on the side of the sink.

A few shining bottles of fluid, with shimmering colors that almost hypnotised him. 

Huh. Could they be?

The thought made him snap out of it, almost snapping his neck with how much force he used to get off the floor and flash towards the sink. He didn’t even notice his Devil physique allowing him to traverse that distance so much faster, as he looked at the three vials and a letter.

Gulping, he felt the severity of the moment land on his head, as this was the moment that could make or break things here, based on what he got here.

Opening the letter, he speed-read through the whole thing.

Dear Unfortunate Soul,

I am ROB, yes, the very same one you met in the space between the WORLDS! Now, as this is my first time doing this, I kind of did not go through the standard procedure. I learned of this once I told my friends about what happened.

Anyway, better late than never, right?

Those three vials contain my gifts to you. One of them is a power, a pretty potent one at that. I have been given to understand that it is more commonly known as Shattered Limiter, with some caveats, however, as it is the only gift you will receive.

The second one is something that will make sure you live an interesting life. It will help you and entertain me in equal measure.

The third vial gets you something that I pulled from your dreams. The one thing that you have been dreaming of for years, if I am comprehending your silly little scale of time.

So, these are my gifts to you, and I have no mission for you. I suppose that your survival itself would mean quite a lot of entertainment would be sent my way, but I like to keep the odds in my favour.

….You will get the punchline once you drink the vials.

Now, I must add that all three vials have to be drunk one after the other. The sequence does not matter, but they will have to be emptied within the minute. Basically, one after the other. Alternatively, you could choose to skip the vials altogether and gamble your survival based on the abilities your current body possesses.

I suppose that would be entertaining too, if a bit short.

Either way, I win! So, go ahead and choose, little Padawan!

He flinched as the letter burst apart in flames and turned to ash, before his gaze went to the three vials of powers. He had read a bit about functions that used this concept. Never went too deep into that kind of power mechanics, though, so he did not have a complete idea as to what drinking them might lead to.

What he, Shin, did know was that he was a nobody. A nobody with a good job. His job and his devotion to it were the two good things he got from this body, and he was under no delusions that he could play the part of the protagonist or even survive in this death world without some kind of advantage.

He desperately needed something, and this was it. Even if the vials were a trick, and he received some kind of broken power, it would be better than nothing. After all, as he was now, he was well on track to be eradicated by some noble Devil who took his existence as an insult.

This version of the Underworld was not the one that Sirzechs and his friends would build after centuries of being in power. No, this was quite close to the actual definition of the Underworld, and worse was that he had no power here. No one would actually fight for him or even miss him if he disappeared right now.

With that depressing thought in mind, his hand lashed out as he took the vial one after the other, uncorked them and emptied their contents in his throat, gulping them down immediately, uncaring of anything that could stop him from taking what could be an incredibly reckless step.

After all, what could be more reckless than staying powerless and weak in a world where all his wildest dreams could come true? Where his wildest dreams might as well be a normal weekday for many Devils?

Why would he settle for mediocrity and just survival, when he could aim for much more? 

As the vials disappeared in front of him, erasing the final bit of proof he had that the ROB, as well as the letter and vials, were not a figment of his imagination, he stared into the mirror, at himself, waiting for something to happen.

As he waited to know if he was gone in the head or not, he noticed his own features.

He had snow white hair. His face was youthful; he had blue eyes, an angular face, narrow eyes, and no beard whatsoever. He took good care of himself and made sure he appeared well groomed, even if he was a janitor.

A conventionally attractive face, undoubtedly, but in the Underworld, where all Devils possessed minor shapeshifting abilities that turned their features and bodies into their preferred shape and appearance, he was downright below average.

He also knew that a low class Devil that looked a bit too good did not survive for long in this world. Being too good looking and not having the power to defend those looks was a one way ticket to being some powerful Devil’s pet, or being killed.

The ones in power also used that simple fact to ferret out who was ambitious and could be a problem, as opposed to Devils who were defeated and did not have much ambition and, as such, could be controlled quite easily.

…Huh. Maybe that is why he got a job at House Gremory so easily, without any prior reference whatsoever?

Then, he might have to make sure that his appearance did not change too much since he did not want to lose his—

His eyes widened, blood rushing seemingly everywhere in his body as he felt his arms become so heavy that no matter how hard he tried, he simply could not make them budge. Veins appeared on his reddened face, as ants seemingly appeared inside his body and began eating it inside out.

As he felt his vision darken and realised that he was going to pass out, he recalled the conversation he had with the ROB about his death and made sure that when he passed out, he was sitting upright, with his back against the wall.

…..Hopefully, that was not poison, and ROB’s sense of entertainment was not a sick one that gave him the thrills when he killed someone after giving them hope…..