The Bronze Bull of Gremory - 17 (Patreon)

Disclaimer: I do not have any rights of ownership for the characters used except the OC's. All the credit goes to the authors. Only the plot belongs to me. All characters are aged up (above 18) and are consenting adults. This is a work of fiction and does not resemble reality in any way whatsoever.

Chapter 17

~ Issei Hyoudou ~

The clock on the wall of Issei Hyoudou’s bedroom ticked with an agonizing rhythm.Tick. Tick. Tick.It was past three in the morning, the dead of night when the rest of Kuoh Town was wrapped in a blanket of silent slumber. But for Issei, sleep was an unreachable shore.

He lay flat on his back, staring up at the ceiling of his room, his hands clasped behind his head. The air in his room felt stagnant, heavy with the lingering scent of dried cum and the phantom chill of holy energy that still seemed to cling to his skin.He shifted, and a sharp, sudden ache flared in his side, making him wince and hiss through his teeth. It was a physical reminder of his encounter with Xenovia Quarta.His thoughts were a chaotic, all-consuming storm, refusing to settle. He had been reborn as a Devil. He had been granted the legendary title of the Red Dragon Emperor, inheriting the soul of Ddraig, one of the Two Heavenly Dragons whose names once made the gods themselves tremble.

By all rights, he should have felt powerful. He should have been standing tall, a champion of the House of Gremory.But as he stared into the darkness, all Issei felt was a hollow, biting sense of inadequacy.He thought back over his short tenure as a Devil. Sure, he had fought off some rogue, low-tier stray Devils. He had managed to scrape by. He had played his part in the conflict against Riser Phenex’s peerage, utilizing tricks and sheer desperation. But when he looked at the grander scheme of things—when he compared his pathetic, stumbling progress to the gargantuan expectations attached to the legacy of the Red Dragon—he saw nothing but weakness.

Then there was the man who was living the life his perverted mind craved ever since he was introduced to the wonderful world of breasts. Taurus, the all-powerful rook of the Gremory family.

He wasn't jealous of Taurus.He couldn't be.The Minotaur had earned every ounce of strength he possessed. He had seen him train with Buchou's elder brother's rook and the brutality of it all.But every time Issei looked at him, he was reminded of how little he had accomplished.The recent skirmish with the Church’s exorcists had completely shattered whatever fragile confidence he had managed to construct.Xenovia Quarta had dodged his attack with an ease that was frankly humiliating. She hadn't even needed to exert herself. A single, fluid motion, a flash of her blade, and Issei had been sent crashing into the dirt, coughing up blood, his Boosted Gear utterly useless against her speed and martial discipline. 

On top of that, he could not even defend Asia's honour. Had Taurus not stepped in, he would have been even more humiliated than he had already been. And then there was Kiba.His friend, the usually calm and pretty boy Knight of their peerage, had completely lost his mind upon seeing the stolen Excalibur fragments. The sheer, venomous hatred that had radiated from Kiba was something Issei had never seen before. Now, Kiba had vanished into the night, consumed by a desperate, suicidal thirst for vengeance, chasing after the stolen swords on his own.

Issei had been powerless to stop him. He had laid there, clutching his bruised ribs, watching his friend run toward his own destruction.The political landscape of the supernatural world was shifting beneath their feet at a rate that threated to topple them over. The cold war between the Devils, the Angels, and the Fallen Angels was rapidly turning hot. Kuoh was becoming the epicentre of a storm, and Issei felt like a dry leaf caught in it.If he wanted to survive the battles that were coming, if he wanted to protect the people he cared about—Asia, who had finally found a home, and Rias Gremory, the crimson-haired King who had given him a second chance at life, his fellow peerage members who had shown him nothing but acceptance —then he had to stop being a burden. He had to stop being the weak link that Rias constantly had to protect and shield from danger.He needed to become stronger. Not in increments, not through slow, agonizing training that would take years he didn't have. He needed power now.Issei closed his eyes, taking a deep, steadying breath. He turned his awareness inward, focusing on the dormant, sleeping spark of energy resting within his left arm. He concentrated on the red gauntlet of the Boosted Gear, letting his mind slip beneath the surface of his physical consciousness.‘Ddraig,’ Issei called out, his mental voice echoing in the darkness of his own mindscape. ‘Wake up. We need to talk.’For a moment, there was only the hum of his own heartbeat. Then, the green jewel on his left hand flared to life, casting a soft, emerald glow across the dark bedroom walls."You are restless, partner," a deep, resonant voice echoed in his mind. It was Ddraig, the Welsh Dragon. The voice was a low, heavy rumble, carrying the ancient gravity of a being that had witnessed the rise and fall of civilizations. "I can feel the turmoil in your soul. Your heart is beating like a trapped bird's.""I'm weak, Ddraig," Issei said aloud, not caring if his parents in the next room heard him. His voice was raw, stripped of his usual perverted bravado and loudmouthed arrogance. "You know it. I know it. That exorcist girl... she didn't even try, and she put me down. Kiba's out there somewhere, probably walking into a trap, and I can't do a damn thing to help him."The green jewel pulsed slowly, a steady, rhythmic light that seemed to synchronize with Issei’s breathing."The wielder of the holy sword possesses a highly refined discipline," Ddraig noted, his tone surprisingly serious, devoid of the usual teasing or exasperation he directed at his host. "And you, partner, are still a fledgling. You rely on the raw multiplication of the Boosted Gear, but you lack the physical vessel, the stamina, and the technique to channel it effectively. You are trying to run a wildfire through a paper pipe.""Then tell me how to fix the pipe," Issei demanded, clenching his fist. "Tell me how to get stronger. I don't have months to train. The Fallen Angels are moving, the Church is here, and everything is going to hell. I need the kind of power that can actually make a difference. I want to stand beside Buchou as a proper servant. I want to protect Asia. I want to drag Kiba back by his collar. How do I do that?"Silence stretched in the room, heavy and expectant."True power is not a commodity that can be traded or handed out like candy, Issei," Ddraig explained, the ancient dragon’s voice taking on a solemn, warning register. "The Longinus class Sacred Gears possess the potential to rival the gods, but that potential is a double-edged sword. To unlock the deeper reservoirs of my strength, you cannot simply ask for it. The laws of the world demand balance. Strength of that magnitude requires a price. It requires sacrifice."Issei didn't hesitate. "What kind of sacrifice?""A piece of yourself," Ddraig rumbled. "A physical or spiritual anchor. To channel the true, unbridled power of the Red Dragon, your mortal body must adapt. You must be willing to give up a part of your humanity, to let my draconic essence consume and rewrite your flesh. You must give something of equal value to the power you seek."Issei sat up in his bed, the sheets falling to his waist. He looked down at his left arm, the limb that housed the Boosted Gear. He could feel the latent, sleeping power within it, a hibernating giant waiting for the signal."My left arm," Issei said, his voice dropping to a quiet, unwavering whisper. "Take it."The green jewel flared, a sharp, sudden spike of emerald light that illuminated every corner of the bedroom. Inside the mindscape, the massive, red-scaled form of the Welsh Dragon shifted, his colossal eyes narrowing as he stared down at the speck of a soul that was his host."Do you understand what you are offering, partner?" Ddraig asked, his voice shaking the very foundations of Issei’s consciousness. "If I consume your arm, it will no longer be human. It will be rewritten by my blood, turned into a draconic limb. You will feel the burning agony of the transformation, and you will forever carry the mark of the dragon. You will be one step closer to losing your humanity entirely.""I don't care," Issei said, his eyes burning with a fierce, stubborn light. "My humanity isn't going to save my friends. It isn't going to keep Asia safe, and it isn't going to help Buchou. If I have to sacrifice a part of my humanity to protect them, then so be it. Take the arm, Ddraig. Give me the power to change my destiny and protect the happiness of those around me."For several moments, the Welsh Dragon was silent.Throughout his long, bloody history, Ddraig had possessed countless hosts. He had lived within the souls of kings, emperors, mercenaries, and conquerors. Most of them had sought his power for grand, selfish reasons. They had sought to conquer nations, to slaughter their enemies, or to exact bloody, brutal revenge after they had already lost everything. They were driven by hatred, by despair, and by a desperate, selfish greed.But Issei... Issei was different.The boy was a fool, a pervert who shouted about breasts and walked into battles he had no right to survive. But his core... his core was purer than any host Ddraig had ever known. He wasn't seeking power to avenge a tragedy. He wasn't seeking to conquer the world. He was offering his own flesh, his own humanity, simply to protect what he currently possessed. He wanted to shield his friends from the tragedy before it could even happen.For the first time since their souls had bonded, Ddraig felt a deep, genuine surge of respect for his current partner."You are an absolute fool, Issei Hyoudou," Ddraig rumbled, but there was a distinct, warm hum of pride in the dragon's voice. "A stubborn, perverted, reckless fool. But... you are my partner. And your resolve is worthy of the Red Dragon Emperor."The green jewel began to pulse, not with its usual light, but with a deep, liquid crimson."I accept your sacrifice," Ddraig declared, the words carrying the weight of an ancient pact. "Sleep now, partner. Let the transformation begin. When you wake, the world will see what happens when the Red Dragon truly begins to stir."An overwhelming wave of exhaustion suddenly washed over Issei, hitting him like a physical blow. His muscles turned to lead, his eyelids growing heavy as his consciousness was dragged down into a deep sleep. He collapsed back onto his pillows, his breathing slowing, his mind turning blank.As he drifted off into the dark, a strange, intense warmth began to spread through his left arm. It started at the tips of his fingers, a tingling sensation of heat that slowly crawled up his forearm, his elbow, and into his shoulder. It didn't burn like Ddraig said it would; it felt like a deep, comforting fire, a physical manifestation of the dragon's blood flowing through his veins, rewriting the bones, the nerves, and the muscle fibres as he shed his humanity and accepted the gift of his partner.Gradually, the sensation faded, leaving behind only a profound, heavy numbness.Deep within the dark recess of the Boosted Gear, two massive green eyes snapped open.Ddraig quietly observed his sleeping host, watching the gentle rise and fall of the boy's chest. The crimson energy of the dragon's soul was still circulating through Issei's left arm, settling into the marrow, transforming the human flesh into something with greater power.Then, for the first time since their meeting, the Dragon Emperor smiled—a terrifying, toothy grin filled with anticipation.

~ Unknown Location ~

Far away from the quiet suburban streets of Kuoh, hidden deep within a location concealed from the prying eyes of Devils, Angels, and Exorcists alike, lay a secret laboratory.The room was vast and constructed of dark stone that seemed to absorb every ounce of moonlight entering the room. The only illumination came from the flickering glow of dozens of magical screens suspended in the air. The screens hummed with a low-frequency magic, displaying complex streams of mana-flows, structural breakdowns of various Sacred Gears and the stolen Excalibur fragments, along with other historical archives.But on the largest, central screen, a recording was playing.It was the footage of the Rating Game between Rias Gremory and Riser Phenex.The recording didn't play the entire match. Instead, it was locked on a loop, repeating the same sequence of events over and over again.The screen showed a towering, bronze-skinned figure. A Minotaur hybrid, over eight feet tall, with thick, forward-curving horns of polished darkness.

Taurus.

The Gremory’s Rook.On the screen, Taurus moved through Riser’s forces like a calamity.  He caught Riser’s elite Knight in a casual, bone-shattering grip, discarding her like trash. And then, the footage showed the climax of the battle.Taurus stood over Riser Phenex, the arrogant son of the Phenex Clan. He ignored a barrage of high-class fire magic, the flames washing over his bronze hide without leaving a single mark. He had pinned the noble to the dirt, his massive fists rising and falling in a brutal pummelling of the fool. The footage captured the moment Riser’s pride was shattered, his regeneration slowing down, his face a mask of pure, visceral terror as the Minotaur broke his mind and body until the noble screamed his surrender.A pair of red eyes studied the flickering footage with an intense, predatory curiosity.Kokabiel.One of leaders, a Cadre of the Fallen Angel organization, Grigori, sat on a stone throne in the centre of the dark laboratory. His ten black wings, symbols of his fallen majesty and immense power, were folded loosely behind his back. He was an ancient entity, a survivor of the Great War who had witnessed the deaths of God and the original Maous. He had seen countless monsters, heroes, and legends rise and fall throughout history.But the creature on the screen was something new. Something he couldn't quite place.The recording played one last time, the sound of Taurus's guttural, mocking laugh echoing through the laboratory speakers, before the screen went black, plunging the room into a heavier shadow.Silence filled the space, thick and expectant.Then, Kokabiel spoke. His voice was a smooth, but it carried the chilling, metallic undertone of a blade being drawn from its sheath."Explain him."Standing a few feet away, in the shadow of the consoles, Valper Galilei stiffened. The disgraced, fanatical archbishop, dressed in his stained, ragged robes, adjusted his glasses, his thin hands trembling slightly. Even a man of Valper's standing could not help but feel the suffocating pressure of standing near a Fallen Angel of Kokabiel’s calibre."My lord?" Valper asked, his voice reeking of nervous deference."The Minotaur," Kokabiel said, his eyes never leaving the blank screen where the image of Taurus had just been. "Minotaur hybrids have existed before. The Underworld has used them as shock troops, heavy labour, and arena fodder for centuries. I have slaughtered dozens of them myself for sport.""Yes, my lord," Valper nodded quickly. "They are... sturdy creatures. High physical durability, but limited magical capability and low intelligence. Typically, they do not rise above the level of Mid-Class Devils.""Exactly," Kokabiel murmured, leaning forward, resting his chin on his steepled fingers. "They do not become this. They do not walk through Phenex hellfire from a high-class devil as if it were a mild spring rain. They do not overpower high-class devils from the Phenex Clan with raw physical strength. And they certainly do not reach this level of combat efficacy before reaching physical adulthood. This Taurus... he is an anomaly."Valper remained silent.

He knew the facts spoke for themselves. The data they had gathered from the Rating Game broadcast was clear. Taurus’s physical specs, his magic resistance, and his raw, kinetic output were off the charts. It was a level of power that defied the natural limits of his hybrid heritage."My lord," Valper began, adjusting his glasses again as he pulled up a new data stream on a side tablet. "Our intelligence network has gathered some... highly unusual background information on the Gremory's Rook. According to the records from the spies in the Underworld's civilian sectors, Taurus was discovered by Rias Gremory during a trip to a village in Greece. At the time of his retrieval, he was nothing more than an injured, feral child. His physical measurements and magical pressure were... above average, yes, but entirely consistent with a standard Minotaur hybrid."Kokabiel’s eyes narrowed, a glint of genuine, childlike curiosity dancing in their golden depths. "And yet, in an impossibly short period of time, he has undergone a metamorphosis. He has become a monster capable of crushing a High-Class Devil with his bare hands. How?""We believe... it is the result of specialized training and biological stimulation," Valper explained, his voice taking on the rapid, fanatical cadence of a mad scientist. "Our informants within the Gremory territory suggest that the matriarch of the house, Venelana Gremory, took a personal interest in the boy. He was subjected to a brutal, non-stop routine of physical conditioning, magical tempering, and... other, more intimate forms of grooming with the help of maids. My hypothesis is, the House of Gremory has nurtured him, feeding his beastly attributes with high-density demonic energy, essentially forcing his evolution."A slow, terrifying smile spread across Kokabiel's face. It wasn't a smile of amusement. It was the smile of a predator that had just spotted a new, incredibly interesting species of prey. For perhaps the first time in centuries, the boredom that had plagued the ancient Fallen Angel was beginning to recede."A living weapon," Kokabiel whispered, his voice dripping with dark appreciation. "A monster cultivated in the dark, forged in blood and lust. The Gremory have a fine eye for beasts. Valper.""Yes, my lord?""I want a complete investigation into this Taurus," Kokabiel ordered, his voice brooking no argument. "I want everything. I want his family tree. His parents. His grandparents. If he has any siblings. I want his bloodline, his history, every scrap of information that has ever been recorded about him. No creature becomes a monster like that without a reason. There must be a dormant spark in his heritage, something ancient that the Gremory family unknowingly managed to fan into a flame.""I will begin the investigation immediately, my lord," Valper bowed deeply. "Our networks in the Underworld will be mobilized. We will dissect his history down to the bone."Valper turned to leave, his boots clicking against the cold stone, but he paused at the edge of the light. He looked back at the Fallen Angel leader."My lord... regarding our other preparations. The Excaliburs. The exorcists. Shall we proceed as planned?"Kokabiel waved a hand dismissively, his attention already returning to the blank central screen as if he could still see the phantom image of the Minotaur playing upon it."Of course. The war must have its catalyst. The stolen swords will draw the factions together, and when they arrive, we will light the match. Everything is proceeding exactly as I have designed.""Understood," Valper said, turning once more to depart."And Valper," Kokabiel’s voice cut through the dark, halting the priest in his tracks."Yes, my lord?"Kokabiel’s smile widened, his teeth gleaming in the dim light of the magical screens. The light of his eyes seemed to burn with a manic, bloodthirsty intensity."I want to meet the Gremory's Rook. When the stage is set, make sure he is there. I want to see for myself if this 'Bronze Bull' can withstand the light of a leader of the Fallen."Valper bowed one last time, his heart hammering with a mixture of fear and excitement, before disappearing into the shadows of the laboratory.Left alone in the cold, silent room, Kokabiel let out a low, amused chuckle. The chess pieces were moving, the storm was gathering, and for the first time in a very long time, the game was becoming interesting. His gaze remained fixed on the screen, a silent vow of violence hanging in the stagnant air of the laboratory.The Gremory's Rook had caught the attention of one of the most dangerous beings in the world—and the consequences would be catastrophic.

Author’s Note

A slightly shorter chapter. Felt good returning to this story. Truthfully, had a major writer’s block regarding this one and still do. If anyone has ideas, do drop them below.

Drop reviews as it goes a long way to motivate me. See you in the next chapter.