A Life Kept Simple (DxD/Hentai Chaos Gacha OC-SI) — Chapter 37 (Patreon)

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“...Oh, look, Rossweisse. He’s finally awake!”

“M-My lord, don’t hang over him like that. He just woke up…!”

Groaning at the voices, I’m feeling none of the aches I expected to. Then again, odds are someone healed me after… huh. My head’s kind of a mess because the last thing I remember, I was cranking up Possessing Spirit to its Third Gear. The one renowned for messing up your heart, your sense of reason, etc. But my memories kind of peter out after that.

When I open my eyes, I find a long-haired old man with a monocle standing over me. He’s got a short navy blue robe, and he’s wearing a weird black… nightcap? Then again, this is the supernatural world. Fashion here is kind of wack. Just look at what they’ve got Sirzechs Lucifer going around in.

“Welcome back to the realm of the living, my boy!” He moves away, giving me the space I need to sit up and look around. It’s a fairly standard room, though I don’t exactly know where I am.

Behind the old man is a white-haired woman, clad in gleaming silver armour, trimmed with gold. She’s got a winged helmet tucked under her arm and is looking at the old man’s head with a kind of tired exasperation. Seeing me staring, though, she gives me a small smile and clears her throat.

“S-Sir Arima, this is—”

“Pshaw! Introductions aren’t needed! Not when you and I are of a piece. Or well, half a piece, anyway!” The old man throws his head back and laughs at his own joke.

There’s nothing funny about the present situation to me, though. Now that the grogginess has worn off, I can tell what he is as clear as day. He’s a god… even if the texture of the divinity I sense from him is different than what I’m used to. It does make sense, however, and between the monocle, his age, and the Valkyrie-looking lady behind him, I’ve got a half-decent guess.

“Nice to meet you, Lord Odin.”

The King of the Aesir smiles at me. Some of that goofy old man energy in his eyes dims at my words, but his smile widens into a crooked grin. “And you, Takezo Arima. The stuffy hen behind me is Rossweisse, my personal Valkyrie bodyguard.”

“Pleased to meet you, Sir Arima!” She bows, placing a hand on her sternum. I look between them with a slight sense of unease, but seeing they were here before I woke up, I don’t have anything to fear. At least, I think I don’t.

“What can I do for you, Lord Odin?” I ask slowly, stifling a yawn.

“A Japanese Greek demigod isn’t something I’d have expected in this day and age. Do your folks know you’re here by any chance?”

“Why?”

Odin chuckles. “Their insufferableness makes sense if that’s the case. I’m sure you know that this Rating Game tournament is more or less a sideshow for talks between the three biblical factions and other pantheons.”

I nod slowly. The Khaos Brigade is, after all, a rogue faction with members across the supernatural world. Serafall did say that a fallen cadre had joined them on the sly, so playing nice until they’re dealt with is probably for the best.

“Well, I have it on good authority that old Thunderpants has decided that the denizens of Olympus will come out in two or three months. Supposedly it’s beneath them to not be entertained by the best of the Underworld’s youths. Seeing you, though, it all makes sense.”

Rossweisse clears her throat. “I-I’m afraid none of this answers his earlier question, my lord.”

“Good grief, girl. I’m setting the scene! This is why you can’t find yourself a man. Unwind a little. There’s no need to be so high strung in front of such a handsome lug!”

“E-Even in front of a guest?!” Rossweisse flushes, torn between embarrassment and indignation as she glares at him. “Have you no shame, my lord!”

Odin snickers. “Shame is for virgins like you, my girl.”

“I shall stand guard outside this room, then!” she declares, slamming the door on her way out.

“Dear me. Teasing her is too much fun. She’s awfully high-strung, you see? It’s good for her, in fact.”

I give him a small smile. “... I’ll defer to you, since I don’t really know her. That said, what can I do for you?”

“Oh, nothing!”

…Wait, what?

“Unlike your lot, I’m a fan of these Rating Games! That being said, I’m not sure why the devils decided to have a final-tier match in the first round. I’m not sure the following matches will match up to yours.” He adjusts his monocle with a smile. “Though you and yours are guaranteed a spot in the finals, so perhaps not! Between you and me, though, how did you manage to acquire Hera’s favour? You’re a bastard, are you not?!”

I blink.

“Of course, there’s no shame in it! But she’s an ardent supporter of matrimony, and that’s putting it lightly.”

“I… pfft!” I can’t hold the laughter in, and, worse, I don’t know why I’m laughing. Have I sort of just cracked after waking up with Odin in my room? “S-Sorry. I can’t tell you… Oh, wow. I don’t know what came over me.”

Odin snorts, slowly rising from the chair at my bedside. “Fine. Keep your secrets. I can ask Hera herself if she comes along. Who knows if she’ll tell me.”

“Sorry, but do you mind telling me what exactly happened?” I ask. “My memories are kind of hazy.”

“What do you mean?”

“Like, I remember fighting Sairaorg but then… nothing. How did the Rating Game go?”

“Ah!” Odin adjusts his monocle, smiling over his shoulder. “You won.”

“I did?!”

“Not you specifically, but your peerage, yes. Which means you’ll be in the finals,” he closes the door behind him, though before saying, “I’m expecting some more entertaining bouts from you.”

He’s barely left when a flurry of achievements come in.

Feat: Beat Sairaorg Bael’s Peerage Against The Odds!

+1x Platinum Trait Gacha Ticket

Feat: The Strongest Challenger — Force Sairaorg Bael to Use His Balance Breaker!

+1x Platinum Ability Gacha Ticket

Feat: Awaken the Demon Back!

+1x Gold Ability Gacha Ticket

Feat: Star Teacher — Have a Student Awaken Touki in Under Three Months!

+1x Gold Random Gacha Ticket

The Demon Back? Then again, that was probably the hardest fight of my life, so awakening it does make sense. I’ll test it out later. For now, going through these tickets is a decent way to take my mind off whatever the fuck this was. It’s a brief distraction, but I’ll take it!

Trait: Super High Capacity [Legendary]

You have 2 extra ability slots.

I let out a whistle. Seeing I’ve only got two ability slots at the minute, more certainly helps. Tantric Healing and Arousal are practically mainstays at this point, and the other two slots can be used for whatever, really. Hydro Pump is probably another guaranteed occupant, seeing as I’m not party to devil-style imagination magic. The last slot could probably have anything, from my newly acquired Blind to Shadow Cloak or Shape Altering, where necessary.

…Shit, I hope my luck continues as I tear into the next platinum ticket.

Ability: Absolute Territory [Legendary]

Create a 100-meter zone around yourself, inside of that territory all abilities are ranked up by one stage and all of your physical abilities are increased, as long as Absolute Territory is active no other being can call authority inside of it, but as a trade-off, you cannot leave your territory for the duration it is active for. Absolute Territory costs a large amount of energy to maintain.

I guess I’ve found a new mainstay ability. The trade-off is more than fair, to be honest. What does not being able to leave my territory even entail, though? Is it an actual barrier, or do I just lose the power boost?

“Just another thing to test out at some point,” I mutter, sliding both gold tickets over each. “Might as well do them both at the same time.”

Ability: False Master [Rare]

For as long as this ability is active, any weapon you pick up you instinctively understand the full capabilities of and temporarily gain Adept Rank Mastery in whatever weapon category the weapon belongs in. 

Trait: Pacifism [Uncommon]

With pacifism, you are able to turn off your killing potential; even if you hit a medieval serf with a final flash, he will still be alive, albeit barely.

 …Well. I’m glad to see my middling luck has decided to return. Then again, these aren’t bad rolls, even if the rarity leaves much to be desired. Slowly, the thrill leaves me. Wait, I distinctly remember not wearing this shirt? I’m guessing my shirt was destroyed in my fight with Sairaorg, then. It’s not like it was an extra-special magic hoodie, and the t-shirt underneath it was equally as normal. There’s a knock at the door right as I swing my legs over the bed and onto solid ground.

Thankfully, someone’s left my shoes on the floor.

“Come in?” I say unsurely.

“Good to see you awake, Arima.”

“Sairaorg!” I grin, rising to my feet.

“It was a hell of a fight. No one has pushed farther, not even Notus.

“That's actually something I wanted to ask about. I remember you putting on Regulus, and then things get hazy.”

“Ah.” Sairaorg nods understandingly. “That explains it.”

“Explains what?”

“We'll get to that.” He approaches, offering his hand. I take it, and he gives mine a firm shake. “I won't keep you long. I expect your friends will be here shortly, and I imagine they'll want you to themselves.”

“Were you waiting outside?”

“For a little while. Lord Odin’s Valkyrie was kind enough to tell me he'd be finished soon.” His smile turns slightly amused. “Did your conversation go well?”

“Yeah, I guess. He mostly wanted to know why Hera likes me.”

“I watched the recording after I was healed,” he says. “Quite an entertaining experience, seeing everything I missed while we were fighting. Your peerage certainly has some interesting characters.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Your Pawn, for instance. Kyouka, was it?”

“Yeah?”

Sairaorg presses his lips together, visibly trying not to laugh. “I confess, I hadn't expected Liban to be eliminated in quite that fashion.”

I stare at him. “How did he lose?”

“There was an unfortunate incident involving her shirt. She threatened to push her bosom in his face, throwing Liban entirely off his game.”

“...You’re kidding.” I smile.

“I assure you, I'm not!” Sairaorg laughs along with me. “I watched the entire Rating Game twice. Liban is a capable Knight, but I fear his training did not prepare him for such an opponent. I’d be pretty shocked, to be honest. Safe to say my peerage and I don’t plan on letting him live it down.”

“Seriously, though. What happened between us? I remember you putting on the armour, and then bits and pieces, mostly. I think I summoned Orochi and Nue?”

“You did. Both were rather troublesome, especially the bird.” Sairaorg rubs the back of his neck. “I won, and whatever ability you were using that reddened your skin and blackened your eyes faded. But after that, despite looking normal, you became considerably stronger. You fought without your sword, and I had to work rather hard to put you down.”

“But I still lost? Odin said that I, personally, didn’t win, which is a bit confusing.”

“You fought magnificently, Arima. I mean that. But in the end, I won.”

“...Seriously? How did you lose?”

“Mary Naamah and Ibaraki Douji beat me. It was the definition of winning the battle, yet losing the war.” He laughs softly. “Still, they fought well. Mary Naamah in particular was remarkably difficult to strike, and your familiar possesses a truly frightening constitution. By then, however, I'd exhausted myself fighting you. They took full advantage of it. Congratulations.”

I lean back on my hands, staring at the ceiling. “...Hey, Sairaorg?”

“Yes?”

“Is it wrong that I'm a little frustrated? I mean, I'm glad we won. Mary's going to the finals, everyone's probably celebrating, and I got to fight you. But knowing I lost our fight stings a little.”

I guess that’s the Hanma in me talking.

Sairaorg snorts. “My friend, I know the feeling. Such is the nature of Rating Games. If victory depended solely on the strength of the King, there would be little reason to have a peerage in the first place. Besides, I would be disappointed if you were entirely satisfied with losing.”

“Why's that?”

“Because I certainly intend to defeat you again.”

I grin. “Again?”

“Of course! You don't think I'd be content with only one victory, do you?” He laughs, and I find myself joining him.

For a little while, neither of us says anything.

Then I glance towards the window.

“Notus would've loved this. You know, he gave me that shield I used. Seeing that it helped hand you your first ever loss, he’d probably be over the moon.”

Sairaorg's smile softens. “Knowing him, he would have demanded a match of his own.”

“Ha! Yeah. Probably.”

“Though…” I hesitate. “There was something he mentioned that I've been meaning to ask you about.”

“Hmm?”

“Your mother.”

“...What about her?” The smile on his face doesn't disappear entirely, but he sits a little straighter.

“She’s ill, right? With something called Sleeping Disease?”

Sairaorg nods slowly. “Yes. My mother has not awakened since I was a child. Many have tried to heal her. Devils, magicians, specialists from other factions, anyone that money can buy. We've exhausted quite a few avenues over the years. There are still others I intend to pursue, of course, but I have faith that a cure will be devised one day. Not just for her, but for every devil suffering from this disease.”

I scratch my cheek. “I might be able to heal her.”

“I appreciate the offer, Arima. Truly.”

“I'm serious.”

“I don't doubt that.” He looks down at his hands for a moment. “But I've heard those words before. More times than I care to remember, in fact. Please don't misunderstand me. If you believe there's something you can do, I would be grateful for the opportunity to try. But I hope you'll forgive me if I refrain from getting my hopes up.”

I nod slowly. “Fair enough.”

“Perhaps we can discuss it properly another time. I wouldn't want to impose on you immediately after such a difficult battle.”

“You’re not an imposition.”

His smile becomes a little more genuine. “Thank you. Though I’m sure your friends would disagree.”

“Seriously, though. I'll have to look into it. I can't promise anything, but…”

“That's more than enough.” Sairaorg rises, straightening his shirt. “Now, I believe I've kept you long enough.”

“Going already?”

“I did say I'd be quick.” He offers his hand once more. “Congratulations on your victory, Arima. I hope we'll have the opportunity to fight again soon.”

“We shall see!” Sairaorg releases my hand. “Until then, enjoy your victory, Arima. You've earned it.”

“You too. Well, the rest of your day, anyway.”

He chuckles at that, giving me a final nod before making his way towards the door. A moment later, it closes behind him, leaving me alone with my thoughts. I sit for a while.

…Man. Odin, of all people, had come to visit me. And apparently, Zeus and the rest of Olympus would be making an appearance in the Underworld within a few months. Two or three, he'd said. Which meant there was a pretty decent chance I'd meet them before the year was out because this tournament is only running till November.

The thing is, I'm getting tired of being afraid of this demigod shit. Every time someone brings up Olympus, I start wondering whether I've somehow offended one of the gods without knowing it. I haven't broken into Olympus to steal from them. Sure, I've benefited from their existence, but it’s not like I asked Baron Naamah to cook up that rumour; he just took my panic for admission of some kind of tie to them.

Fuck it, if they’ve got a problem with me, then they can tell me what it is when they get here. I'll deal with it then, rather than spend the next few months worrying myself sick over a conversation that hasn't even happened. I swing my legs back onto the bed, leaning against the headboard while consciously trying to relax.

There's a commotion outside.

“—I'M TELLING YOU, IT WASN'T MY FAULT!”

“Oh, that's fucking rich!”

“Would you two please stop arguing in the corridor?!”

…Oh, boy.

The door flies open. “ARIMAAAA!”

Mary comes hurtling through the doorway and throws herself at me before I can sit up, let alone raise my arms. I fall backwards against the pillows with a startled grunt as she lands in my lap, wrapping both arms around my neck.

“WE WON! WE ACTUALLY WON!”

She's laughing. When she pulls back, her face practically glows with excitement. Behind her comes the rest of her peerage and our friends, pouring into the room until what was a fairly spacious bedroom suddenly feels cramped. Thankfully Miyata isn’t in his werewolf form. Murata is the first through, followed by Seto, Miyata, Leona, Saki, and Kyouka. Ibaraki comes in behind them with her arms folded, while Mrs Houjou brings up the rear, looking amused.

“Look who's finally awake!” Murata grins, throwing his arms wide.

“Good to see you conscious, Arima,” Seto says, adjusting his glasses. “We were starting to wonder how long you'd be out.”

“Not that long, apparently.” I glance towards the window.

Saki smiles meekly. “...It’s good to see you’re okay.”

“He was never in danger,” Kyouka says, snorting. “Magic, remember?”

She flushes, bowing her head, earning the blonde a reproachful glare from Mrs Houjou. Kyouka has made herself comfortable at the foot of the bed, shaking her head helplessly.

“Congratulations,” Mrs Houjou adds warmly. “Watching all of you fight was quite the experience. I don't think I've ever been so nervous in my life. You all did wonderfully, though!”

“Some of us more than others,” Murata mutters.

I glance at him. “What's that supposed to mean?”

“Ask her.” He points at Ibaraki. The oni harrumphs.

“I have done nothing deserving of such scorn.”

“YOU ELIMINATED ME!”

…What? I look between them.

“Hold on. Someone explain.”

Murata throws both hands into the air. “She blasted the entire throne room with fire while I was still in it!”

“I defeated the lion,” Ibaraki replies proudly.

“And me!”

“You ought to have moved.”

“HOW?! I’M NOT AS STRONG AS YOU!”

Mary straightens in my lap, her earlier delight momentarily forgotten. “And she nearly hit me before that! Twice! I swear, Arima, she was more dangerous to us than half of Sairaorg's peerage!”

“Yet you remain alive,” Ibaraki says. I stare at her, and she stares back, looking utterly unrepentant.

“Alright, alright.” I raise both hands before Mary can start another argument. “We'll sort out Ibaraki's friendly-fire problem later—”

“I have no such problem.”

“—In the meantime, I've got an idea. Why don't we watch the replay?”

“The Rating Game?” Seto asks.

“Yeah. Sairaorg said he watched it twice, and apparently there's some funny shit in there. I haven't seen any of it, obviously.”

“Neither have I,” Murata admits.

“Wait, seriously?”

“We've been a little busy,” Leona points out.

“Between getting healed and checking on everyone, there hasn't exactly been time,” Miyata adds.

“I wanted to wait until you woke up,” Mary says, looking rather pleased with herself.

…Aww.

“Actually, I think it'd be fun to watch together. We all got separated pretty early on, so I haven't got a clue what half of you were doing.”

“Agreed,” Seto says. “I'd be interested in seeing how the other engagements played out. Though… um, there have been rumours and whispers on the Devilnet.”

“What kind?” Kyouka asks, grinning.

Seto flushes and shakes his head.

“And I wanna see my fight!” Murata declares. “I finally figured out touki, man!”

“I know!” I say, giving him a smile.

“How?”

“Covenant stuff.”

“Oh… well, I figured it out before Seto, too!”

Seto gives him a flat look.

“I'm rather curious myself,” Mrs Houjou says. “I watched the broadcast, but there was so much happening that I'm sure I missed quite a bit.”

“I wish to witness my triumphs again,” Ibaraki declares.

Mary looks at her. “You mean your attempted murder of your own teammates?!”

I laugh, reaching towards the bedside table. It runs for about an hour, maybe less, getting all the angles and clueing me into Mary and Murata’s issues with Ibaraki. And… well, it was certainly something.

Murata starts laughing again. “The look on his face gets me every time!”

Saki’s blushing so hard that her ears are cherry-red.

“You actually threatened to shove your tits in his face!” Miyata said. “No, forget the threat. You actually did it!”

“I WAS TRYING TO WIN!” Kyouka howls above Leona’s laughter.

“Poor Liban,” Leona manages between giggles. “I almost feel sorry for him.”

“Almost,” Saki agrees.

Kyouka gives Leona a look. “I feel sorry for you. That’s some shit you’ll never be able to do!”

“M-Mama, she called me flat!”

I wipe a tear from my eye, feeling my stomach twitch uncontrollably with amusement. Mrs Houjou has one hand pressed over her mouth, though the shaking of her shoulders rather gives her away.

“Well, Leona, I’m sure you’ll have a growth spurt any day now. You’re obviously a late bloomer,” she says, struggling to keep her composure. “Kyouka’s strategy was exactly what I’d expect of a Houjou Group employee. Well done~!”

I don’t think Kyouka’s realised her tits are probably all over the internet. Hell, she probably does know and relishes in the fact. The chatting slows as we get to my match with Sairaorg. It’s weird, seeing myself in the third person, especially when I’m not in my right mind. Man, I knew Sairaorg was strong, but seeing the fight from the outside is something else entirely. Especially the part where I apparently went completely fucking mental.

And then there’s the Demon Back, huh? There's a lot to unpack there, but right now, I've got more pressing concerns. Namely, the fact that Ibaraki has somehow managed to get her hands on the cookie jar I pulled out of my inventory for everyone to share.

“Ibaraki.” She looks up, cheeks full like she’s some kind of hellish squirrel.

“...Hm?”

“Those are for everyone.”

She swallows and reaches into the jar again before grudgingly passing it on.

“Anyway,” Murata says, as he pulls a cookie out, “I think we can all agree that Kyouka's fight was the funniest.”

“Excuse me?” Mary turns towards him. “Have we forgotten what happened to you?”

Murata's grin disappears. “Oh, come on!”

She points accusingly at Ibaraki. “We're not just going to forget that she eliminated one of our own! You can’t be doing that in the final!”

“She won’t.” I reach around her to grab a biscuit before Ibaraki can finish the lot. “Mary, stop sulking. We won.”

“I know!”

“And Murata's fine.”

“I KNOW!”

“And you're sitting in my lap.”

She narrows her eyes at me. “...What's that got to do with anything?”

“Do you really want me to say?”

“I'm still mad at her.” Mary blushes and looks away from me. After a moment, she huffs and folds her arms, settling more comfortably against me.

Ibaraki takes another biscuit.

Mary points at her. “SEE?! SHE'S NOT EVEN SORRY!”

“Why would I apologise for victory?”

“Oh, for fuck's sake,” I mutter.

Murata throws his head back and laughs. “...Fuck it, who gives a shit?! We won! I figured out touki before Seto, we beat Sairaorg fucking Bael, and nobody's dead!”

“Do you have to keep bringing me into this?” Seto asks.

“Listen, we're celebrating! All of us! Tonight!”

“Sounds good to me,” Miyata says. “Saki?”

“O-Oh!” She stiffens. “Me? Um… sure, if you guys want to!”

Leona smiles. “I think we've earned it.”

Someone knocks on the partly open door.

“Did someone say celebrate?”

We all turn to find Riser Phenex standing in the doorway, one hand resting against the frame with a broad smile.