A Life Kept Simple (DxD/Hentai Chaos Gacha OC-SI) — Chapter 31 (Patreon)

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It’s day three of my hellish last-minute training program, the penultimate day of training before I force everyone to decompress the day before our Rating Game, when Riser calls my uPhone. See, dual SIM phones aren’t really a thing in Japan of 2008, and so I ended up having to buy a bunch of uPhones for not just myself but everyone else. Of course, we’re back at the townhouse in Baron Naamah’s territory. Apparently this is the liveliest this place has been in its entire existence, which is a claim I honestly don’t doubt for a moment.

“Hello?” I lift the smartphone to my ear, only having just finished brushing my teeth. It’s not really dark out, on account of the Underworld’s forever sun, but the time is roughly four-past-five in the morning.

Riser’s voice is ridiculously chipper. “Hello, Arima! Did you get my videos?”

“Good morning to you too,” I grumble. “Why are you up?”

“Training, why else? Besides, you’re awake too, aren’t you?”

“Uh…” I pull back from the enthusiasm and squint at the four attachments sent through to my messages. “These are Rating Games, yeah? Thanks, but I know how they work—”

“Skip forward a little bit. Trust me, you’ll like this.”

“Oh crap.”

Riser laughs.

“Are all of these Sairaorg’s Rating Games?” I ask.

“They are. He’s like me in the sense that we’ve participated in publicised but unofficial Rating Games before. Which means we’re coming in with a disadvantage compared to people like Sona Sitri, Seekvaira Agares, your girlfriend, and Rias.”

I frown. “Hold on. Didn’t Rias Gremory have an entire match against you?”

“It was a private match, watched only by our families, Sona Sitri, and Sirzechs Lucifer.” Riser suppresses a yawn as he drawls, “Regardless, feel free to thank me anytime in the next few days, preferably before your Rating Game.”

“Gee… thank you, Riser,” I say dryly.

“I was going to say ‘hold off the thanks till you get the other half of my gift’ but you’re welcome. Your girlfriend had better thank me, by the way.”

“Your gift?”

The line beeps its end into my ear. I squash the urge to call him back, though. Having overslept for an entire half an hour, I’m late enough as is.

“But first…” I will the silver ticket from the meeting a few days back into my hand, having forgotten to roll it in the initial rush of training.

Ability: Blind [Rare]

Allows you to inflict a curse on your opponents that, once applied, blocks off their sense of sight. You can place it on someone through touch or by throwing a hex, a moderately fast projectile that looks like a rune. The duration of blindness depends on the target's magic resistance. Blind can be applied permanently on targets who cannot resist.

Walking across the floor, I reach the two rooms on the west end, sitting across from one another in the hallway and banging on the door on the left.

“Guys! Wake up, we’re late. You’ve got ten minutes to wash up and meet me at the grounds. If you’re late, you’re doing two extra warm-up laps.”

The threat works exactly as intended, judging by the scuttling at the other end. The door opens, revealing Murata and Miyata hunched over. Behind them are two single beds and a mattress plopped on the polished wooden floor in the middle. Seto’s kneeling on the ground as he makes his bed, something the two half-asleep guys in front of me haven’t bothered to do once. To be fair to them, though, there are maids whose jobs are to do exactly that.

I move aside, watching them walk down the still-dark hallway and take a right before I repeat the process in the girls’ room. It’s significantly bigger on account of there being more of them, Mary included. She wasn’t a fan of sleeping apart from me, but my training camp, my rules. The lack of sex, I think, has given her an edge, but maybe it’s purely placebo. She isn’t starving, anyway. My unnamed brand of bottled touki water has seen to that.

Kyouka trudges past me, grumbling something unintelligible with an entire boob flopping out the side of her shirt. Saki passes me by next, giving me a tired smile and a bow.

“Morning, Arima.”

I smile. “Good morning!”

Ibaraki doesn’t attend the early morning training because there’s really nothing for me to teach or anything she needs to learn. Her limiting factor is me, not herself, and so I basically leave her alone. Five minutes later and there’s still no Mary. I enter the girls’ bedroom, finding a bunch of single beds parked around the room.

Ibaraki’s bigger than the others, but I’m pretty sure she shares the bed with Mary. Turns out she can’t sleep without spooning somebody, and since I’ve been sleeping with the boys, Mary’s been the little spoon of choice. Or the little spoon of second choice, anyway. I lift the covers slightly, not at all disturbing Ibaraki, but don’t find Mary there, nor in any other bed for that matter. It’s not difficult to find her.

All I need to really do is look up to the suppressed but still familiar magical signature that I’ve grown used to.

“...What are you doing?” I ask.

Mary is tucked up against the corner of the ceiling, wedged against two walls. Her hair falls over her eyes, and combined with the odd stance, I genuinely would’ve been a little scared if I couldn’t sense it was her.

“Damn it,” she mutters, dropping down with cat-like agility.

I roll my eyes and lead us out of the room to this floor’s second bathroom. There’s never much of a wait because there are multiple bathrooms on multiple floors, but apparently this one is occupied.

“...Well, be down in five minutes, otherwise—”

Mary’s hand slams into the small of my back. I stumble, twisting, and she pins me to the wall, dipping so fast her form blurs as she tugs at my pants on her way down. Almost immediately, we’re wreathed in pink light as Eros Hide kicks in. Mary’s pupils dilate as she pants against the underside of my penis.

“T-Think about it,” Mary giggles, sounding a little unhinged. “This way, I keep my edge and get something better than water, and you get to relax before training. You never said anything about needing to abstain.”

I swallow thickly, finding my throat to be way too dry. Part of me reckons that Mary will pounce on me even if I try blowing her off… not that I really want to. Otherwise, I’d point out that she’d somewhat get off through Pneumancy. I don’t, though. Instead, my hand slowly descends on the crown of her head, and she gives me a breathy smile as it finally makes contact. 

“Just this once… okay—!”

She veers forward, smushing her nose against my pelvis. Her tongue lengthens and laps at every inch of me it can reach as she glugs and moans. The noises send an electric shiver through her throat, making my toes curl against the carpet. Mary’s eyes damn near roll into the back of her head, and her face is so flushed it’s almost as red as her hair.

The bathroom door clicks open. Footsteps pad across the hallway, and I tense on instinct despite the pink light wrapped around us, but Mary doesn’t stop. If anything, the footsteps getting closer only make her more enthusiastic. She shudders beneath me, bobbing much more forcefully, forcing throaty gag after throaty gag and coating my dick in so much spit that her tongue glides effortlessly underneath it.

Seto walks past without glancing our way even once. His footsteps carry on down the hallway until I hear them start descending the stairs, hiking my spine up the wall to steady my legs. I look down and she looks up, making eye contact with me as she wraps her hands around my entirely wet base, sucking and swirling her tongue around the tip.

“H-Hurry up… at this rate, we’ll be the ones having to do the extra warm-up laps.”

Mary takes that as a challenge and turns the fucking oral vacuum on. 

【—〄—】

I tilt my head, feeling the rush of air as Seto’s third elemental arrow—this one lightning—screams past before fizzling out somewhere behind me. The next one, this time wind, is already nocked by the time I look back. He tends to hang in the long range, sniping enemies via magic for the most part. And towards the end of our one-month training, he decided he was going to take it further and use magical archery. Apparently a nod to his time in the middle school archery club, something I did not know till Murata brought it up.

I close the distance with a burst of magical energy, burying my fist in his stomach before he can let loose, though. Seto folds over, his magical bow and arrow blinking out of existence before I grab the back of his shirt and stop him from faceplanting.

I let him slump onto the grass, coughing and hacking for air. The month’s training leading up to the Young Devil Gathering had let me grant everyone a single ability of mine through Covenant. Even Tajima and Sasaki, who came along to help out with the scant few stray devils and youkai we see in town.

Contrary to popular belief, most stray devils aren’t man-eating monsters but people, generally, who see no way out except running. In those cases, it’s on Mary as Matsuyama’s overseer to put them in touch with the relevant authorities in Lucifaad to get the help they need. Death, apparently, is a very final solution reserved for those stray devils who decide to go and kill innocent people, which was news to me when I heard it.

Thus, those brief outings and the devil contracts count as a benefit to humanity. Out of everyone I’d given the Rare tier Waterbending skill to (Saki being the only other person), Seto had taken to it the best. It let him waterbend with all the skill of a novice, but in a little over a month, he’d gotten good enough with it that he figured out healing. Probably on account of Hanma, if I’m being honest.

Funnily, being a gym noob, he’s got a systematic approach to working out that’s given more bang for his buck than Murata or Miyata, who are sort of carried by grit. Well, grit, Possessing Spirit, and Hircine’s Ring, respectively. But he still can’t use touki yet, not like I can anyway. Manipulating others’ life energy to heal them is easy enough, and he can even heal himself.

Like the me of several months ago, he just can’t make that energy overflow. Lethal injury hasn’t helped him as it has me either.

“Try meditating,” I say.

Seto looks up at me. “What?”

“Yeah. Somewhere outside, preferably. Try doing it in reverse. Once you can clearly sense the life energy of the world, maybe it’ll make it easier for you. But you don’t need to be able to wield touki before August 3rd, you know.”

“What about the Rating Game?” Seto frowns. “We’re obviously being set up.”

“So? It’s not unwinnable. Look at Kyouka.”

We both glance down the field where Mary is enjoying the beating she’s putting on Kyouka way too much. The gyaru has the opposite problem to Seto. She’s got boatloads of power and none of the technique. She’s one of the two high-class fighters our peerage has at the minute, and even that’s only because of the teigu I rolled.

Hopefully promoting to Queen will push her into the lowest end of ultimate-class…

“...We can’t just rely on her, or you, Ibaraki, and Mary. As it stands, me and Saki are the weakest members of this peerage.” Seto sits up and juts his chin forwards, across the grass where Saki is trying and failing to heal the cut I made on Leona’s palm fifteen minutes ago. 

He’s not wrong. But I think I might’ve fucked up by powering all of these guys up so quickly. I still don’t think they realise just how insane their progress is. I turn Riptide back into a pen, placing my hands on my hips.

“Listen, we’ve been over this before. As you guys are now, you can’t win. Our best shot at beating Sairaorg’s peerage is—”

“Buying you enough time to win, I know,” Seto says firmly. “I’m just frustrated I can’t do more to help. I’ll go meditate or whatever.”

Given that I’m certain Sairaorg is looking forward to fighting me almost as much as I am him, I thought it best to turn that longing into a vague strategy… amongst other things.

I straighten. “Oh! Also, try to connect to nature and see if that helps. Sort of like when you use healing, except don’t do anything. Just sit there and try to draw out your own while keeping aware. Did that make sense?”

His shaky smile doesn’t exactly inspire confidence, but I leave him to wander off and move towards Leona and Saki. The puddle at their feet floats up into a crystal-clear ribbon with a curl of my hand. I wrap it around Leona’s palm, closing that cut slowly. The two girls look up with wildly different reactions.

Leona pouts. “...I was hoping to come to you and train in my other form of healing.”

“You’ve had a bunch of practice this past month,” I say. “Besides, how’s your physical training going? I hope you’re making use of the martial skill I gave you.”

The members of the Covenant who weren’t there when I first set it up—in other words, the girls—all got the Uncommon tier Hanma. While it’s not as potent as mine, I think it’s a necessary foundational kind of trait, especially since they’re not really prone to violence. Just then, an explosion sends a shudder through the ground where the other half of the peerage are fighting.

…Well, the girls excluding Kyouka aren’t really prone to violence, so Hanma helps a lot with people like Saki and Leona.

“I’m a mage first and foremost. Rolling around in the mud was never going to be my calling,” Leona drawls as she glances down the vast field. “Besides, you told me my role is to support Saki with magic until she can adapt to our opponent.”

I sigh. “Yes, but training your body increases your pool of magical energy, which in turn helps you enhance your body. It’s all reciprocal, damn it. You’re as strong as a mid-class devil can get, but—”

“Yes, yes. The weakest member of Sairaorg Bael’s peerage is high-class, I know.”

“I-I’m sorry,” Saki says quietly. “I can’t figure it out.”

And once again the sheer absurdity of how far she’s come is lost on her. It’s lost on all of them, really, but I’ve been repeating this for a month, and it still hasn’t sunk in. Perhaps because we’ve had the great misfortune of running up against the one peerage whose average member is stronger than ours.

…From the bottom of my heart, fuck 99% of the Underworld’s higher-ups.

I pat her shoulder. “For the time being, how about you guys spar? You’ll have all the time in the world after this Rating Game to get healing down anyway.”

“...Okay.”

After that, I walk fifteen minutes across the empty grounds, simply following the diverging paths of destruction. There are snapped trees, craters, chunks of earth gouged out by claws, and, eventually, a trail of blood. I find Murata flying through a tree at the end of that trail. His back hits hard enough to snap the trunk in half. Wood splinters everywhere as he tumbles through, hits the ground, rolls another ten feet, and comes to a stop flat on his stomach.

Miyata comes bounding after him on all fours, a hulking lupine mass of dark fur and feral yellow eyes without so much as a scratch on him. Murata, meanwhile, looks like somebody threw him down a mountain. His shirt is torn almost completely off, the skin beneath a deep red, but he’s still not using the Third Gear yet.

For both him and me, it has the downside of inducing so much bloodlust you can’t really differentiate friend from foe. There are four bloody lines raked across his chest, his nose is leaking, and one eye is already swelling shut. He plants both hands against the dirt without paying me any attention.

Miyata thunders to a stop and turns to me with a low noise. I crouch beside Murata and pull a water bottle out of my inventory. Murata tries sitting up again, so I put a hand on his forehead and push him back down while water snakes out of the bottle.

“Stay.”

“He’s the dog,” Murata mutters, nodding at Miyata. The werewolf growls and flips him off.

The water spreads across his chest first. The claw marks knit themselves shut under it before I move upwards, fixing his nose and whatever the hell Miyata did to his shoulder. Possessing Spirit is probably the only reason he’s still conscious. Not only does it speed up one’s heartbeat and blood flow to massively increase power output, but the Second Gear and above dulls pain.

“What are you even trying to accomplish here?” I ask. “Advance pushes you into high-class, but Miyata’s still decently stronger than you. Sure, you’ll get a bit stronger each time you heal, but there are better ways to go about this. Just because I said you guys are free to direct yourselves now doesn’t mean I’ll just watch you pull stupid shit.”

“Touki.” My hand stops.

“By having Miyata beat the shit out of you?”

He clenches his fist as the flush over his body fades. “You said intense physical training can do it, too.”

“Yeah, but only because you refused to ‘cheat’ by learning it through Waterbending,” I say bluntly.

“A man needs only his fists!”

Miyata nods his elongated wolf’s head in agreement with a huff.

I stand, finally done healing him. “...So your grand plan was to keep throwing yourself at an eight-foot werewolf until you tapped into your base of life?”

“Pretty much.”

Miyata makes this noise in his throat that sounds like laughter, I think.

“Fuck off!” Murata grunts. “You just got lucky!”

“Still going on about that heads and tails game?” I ask, rolling my eyes. “You lost fair and square.”

“I know… but I’m still allowed to be salty. Do you think there’s a better way for me to learn it?”

I cross my arms. “Your method isn’t bad, but stop being in such a rush. The world isn’t going to end just because you’re outmatched, you know.”

He dusts his hands off and turns to Miyata.

“Again?”

The werewolf nods. Know what? I think I’ll just let them be.

Finding Mary and Kyouka is significantly easier. Mostly because, like Miyata, Kyouka comes crashing through a tree about thirty feet in front of me.

“FUCKING—!”

She twists, her claws biting through bark as she rips a tree out of the ground in preparation to throw it. Lionel has already transformed her completely. Furred arms up to the elbow, tipped with claws, and monstrous strength. By and large, she’s the strongest out of the reincarnated devils. Her feet hit the ground and immediately tear two trenches through it.

A bolt of demonic power splits the tree in half and screams through the space Kyouka’s head occupied a moment ago.

“Cheap shot!” Kyouka rushes towards Mary after just narrowly dodging the blast.

She throws a wild right. Mary slips outside it and pivots away from the follow-up too, Kyouka’s leg passing close enough to ruffle her skirt.

“Stop fucking moving!”

She twists and comes around with enough force behind her heel that the air pops, but Mary leans back. I watch it miss her nose by inches.

“Better!” Mary smiles. “But you’re still telegraphing way too much, mentally, I mean.”

“Quit fucking grading me!”

The problem here is that Kyouka’s giving away too much. To be fair to her, there’s no one on Sairaorg’s peerage who can read her mind. Pneumancy gives away too much. In her frustration, Kyouka abandons technique entirely and tackles her. They disappear into a cloud of dirt. I start towards them. Kyouka emerges first, straddling Mary and drawing one clawed fist back with a triumphant grin.

“HAH! GOT YOU, BITCH—”

She stops rigidly with her fist straining above Mary’s face.

“...Oh, fuck you,” she hisses.

Mary turns her head towards me from underneath her. “Hi!”

“Why did you let her tackle you?” I slow to a stop.

“You don’t like the view? A busty, well-built lion-girl straddling your tiny girlfriend~?”

Kyouka grunts. “...I think this thing makes me a little too built. Thank fuck it’s not permanent.”

“Aww… Takezo certainly thinks you look great,” Mary says, giggling.

I finally pull my eyes away from Kyouka’s magic abs. “S-Shut up.”

“Say, I was thinking. Well, maybe you should give me your cloak for the match. I can hide under it and fly about saving everyone while you fight Sairaorg? I can also hide and keep us in the game for as long as possible if we need it.”

…I’m kicking myself for not thinking of the idea myself.

Mary smirks. “I’ve been known to think smart thoughts every once in a while.”

Smart ways to drain me dry, more like.

“I heard that!”

I snort. “I’m not wrong, and you know it.”

“Hehe~!”

Kyouka growls under her breath. “Gimme back my body, you ditz!”

“Oh, sorry! There you go,” Mary says underneath her as Kyouka rolls off into the dirt with a frustrated sigh.

“Alright,” I say, raising my voice. “We’re done for today, I think.”

Kyouka looks over.

“Go grab Murata and Miyata. Mary, can you get Seto? I’ll pick up Saki and Leona.”

Mary tilts her head. “Why? We usually go for another few hours, don’t we?”

“I’ve got something special today.”

Everyone gathers up closer to the house, with Murata returning entirely shirtless and with like seven brand new cuts on his person. Seto seems… I’m not sure, really. His face is unreadable, but I’m pretty sure I interrupted him. Saki and Leona trail in last, more scuffed than when I last saw them. Evidence that they were sparring as requested, which is good.

“Okay. First off...” I rub the back of my neck. “Sorry. I think I’ve been putting you guys down a little without meaning to. Not any of you specifically. I mean with all the stuff about how strong Sairaorg’s peerage is.”

A couple of brows go up.

“They are strong,” Miyata says.

“That’s why I keep fucking saying it.” I sigh. “But you guys clearly want to win, and I’ve spent the last three days basically telling you how well you need to lose. Anyway, fuck that.”

I pull out my uPhone.

“Riser sent me every public Rating Game Sairaorg’s ever fought this morning.”

“Why the hell didn’t you say that earlier?!” Kyouka demands.

“Because he sent them this morning and we had training.” I shove the phone back into my pocket before anybody gets ideas. “Go shower. We’ll eat, watch these, and figure out what the hell we’re actually dealing with.”

Murata grins. “So now we’re trying to win?”

“We were always trying to win… but maybe now we can cater everyone’s matches so they’re going against the best possible opponent they can.”

Kyouka’s already moving. “Dibs!”

“There are multiple bathrooms!” I yell after her. The rest follow with a second wind I genuinely didn’t know they had. Murata and Miyata take off after Kyouka, Seto only slightly behind them as Leona and Saki scurry off after them. Mary takes my arm as we walk behind them at a more leisurely pace.

They barely make it through the back doors before a familiar voice rings out.

“Master Miyata!”

Miyata’s hulking form skids to a stop with a high-pitched whine. Eunice stands in the hallway with a basket of folded laundry tucked against her hip, staring pointedly at the enormous werewolf currently tracking mud across the freshly cleaned floor.

“...Outside. You will transform back outside, where I will bring you a towel to wrap around your manhood.”

Miyata glances at his paws. His ears flatten as he slowly backs out the way he came, serenaded by Kyouka and Murata’s jeering.

I watch the lot of them rush up the stairs. “Well, I’m happy their moods have picked up.”

“You were being a bit depressing.” Mary bumps her shoulder against mine as we slow in front of the ground-floor bathroom. “Three days of ‘You’re going to lose, but try your best!’ will get to anyone. They all know it’s because you care, but it’s also really depressing. You’re welcome to join me, by the way!”

“Tempting, but I already let you get your way this morning. Wait one more day. You’re not an addict.”

She taps her chin. “...I think I might be, and it’s your fault. I’m letting that be known now.”

“Go shower.” I look away, feeling my face grow hot as she laughs at my expense.

About forty minutes later, we’re crammed around Baron Naamah’s dining table over brunch. At this point, seeing that it’s eleven, it’s probably smarter to eat breakfast and lunch together. The table’s absolutely stacked. There’s a platter of crispy chicken parmesan buried under melted mozzarella and tomato sauce, thick slices of garlic bread still warm enough to steam when torn open, scrambled eggs, sausages, roasted potatoes tossed in herbs and butter, and an entire stack of pancakes with syrup, berries, and whipped cream parked at the far end.

There’s fruit too, I guess, but nobody except Saki seems particularly interested in pretending to be healthy. Seto asks me to send the videos to his uPhone, but I tell him that I’ll do it after we’ve watched them together. Eunice and a slightly older maid enter through the double doors, wheeling in a screen big enough to cover half the wall.

“Oh, nice,” Miyata says.

The screen gets parked at the end of the room. Once the curtains are drawn shut, I connect my phone to the screen and pull up the four videos.

“How old are these?” Leona asks.

“Dunno yet. Riser just dumped all four on me.”

The maid finishes plugging everything in right as the doorbell rings.

“Are you expecting someone?” I ask Mary.

“No.” She frowns. “My dad never has guests either.”

Baron Naamah has mostly given us the run of his house, taking his meals in his study. Though he does come down for dinner, which is usually a pretty relaxed affair. Like Mary once said, this is home, but you won’t know he lives here till he jumps out of the dark like a ghost. Voices drift down the hallway while we wait, growing clearer as they reach the double doors.

“Ravel!”

Mary beams, abandoning her chicken parmesan to run up and wrap the blonde in a hug. Ravel’s dressed in a frilly purple jacket over a white dress.

“Good morning, all!” she says, giving us a curtsy. “It’s wonderful to see you’re all in good health.”

She’s carrying a bag over one shoulder and wearing a smug little smile as the maid leads her inside.

Kyouka looks between her and Mary. “The hell are you doing here?”

“My older brother has graciously decided to lend me to Mary’s peerage until the conclusion of her Rating Game.” Ravel places a hand against her chest and juts her chin out. Eunice plates her a serving of chicken parm as she takes a seat across from Mary and beside Murata.

“Well, shall we begin with the videos Riser sent you?” she asks.

…We’re still in shock at the news a little bit, but I eventually fumble for my phone and press play.

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