His facial features slowly disappeared along with his legs. His body was shrinking and he was losing self-awareness. But it was a small price to pay.

  [Survive!]

  He released the sphere and with it, the last traces of his consciousness.

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  ..

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  |DxD|- Chapter 6- Anomaly

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  Cleria was ready for everything to end. She had lived a long life. She would not claim it was fulfilling, but she was content.

  It was not clear where devils went after their deaths. Perhaps they simply scattered into nonexistence, a fact that was horrifying all on its own. Yet that fate sounded far better than staying another moment here.

  Her hand remained stuck to the brass handle of the door to her office. Her eyes, grey like the hems of her raven dress, calmly locked onto the figure sitting on her armchair reading a book. He wore a red cloak lined with golden seams woven into the fabric. A simple necklace hung over his exposed chest.

  He was Diehauser, the patriarch of the Belial Clan, and one of the strongest devils in the Underworld. He was quiet, calm as if he owned the room. His moon-white eyes hovered over the texts before him with silent intrigue.

  Cleria knew someone from the clan would come. She had come to terms with that fact the moment she used a phoenix tear on the boy. She just never expected it to be her cousin.

  “Cleria. I am delighted you finally made the time to arrive.”

  His voice was soothing like a stream of water. Strands of white hair shifted when he raised his head to look at her. He had a small smile on his face, but then again, her cousin had a smile regardless of what mood he was in.

  “I see you even brought me coffee, cousin. You are caring indeed. You can place it here on the table while we discuss some rather pertinent matters, no?”

  “...”

  Her hold on the mug tightened. This coffee was for her! If he weren’t the patriarch, she’d throw it at his face.

  “We do, cousin.”

  Fine, she’d play along and be obedient. Perhaps her cousin was taking out the stress of covering for her, on her.

  Cleria closed the door behind her and walked forward. Her hair had been loosened from its bun, allowing it to flow all the way to her waist. It was impractical in combat, something Diehauser frequently commented on, but she rarely fought on the frontlines. Besides, she had no inclination to listen to the very person who knowingly sat on HER chair.

  Those grey eyes followed her silently and with barely veiled cheeky delight. Hijacking her chair and stealing her coffee—someday she swore she would get even.

  She pulled the guest chair and sat down with the dignified air of a noblewoman. She slowly pushed the steaming mug towards him, her eyes not leaving him once.

  He took the mug and downed half of the piping hot liquid down his throat. It was petty of her to heat the coffee to burning temperatures just before giving it to him, and it irked her when he showed no reaction.

  “Tch.”

  Diehauser was amused at her reaction. He watched her from the corner of his eye, almost goading her to say anything, yet all she did was sit with her arms crossed.

  For a moment, the beautiful woman before him was replaced with a child in simpler clothes. The nostalgia came and went with the last sip of coffee.

  “That was an excellent beverage, Cleria. It has eased my nerves quite well, especially given the rather vague report on my table.”

  The cup thunked gently on the hardwood desk, but that could not be said for the air in the room. The moment Diehauser placed his arms on the table, the moment his smile faded, a deep aura spread. It carried a tenseness that made Cleria sit up straighter. There was no malice. It was simply the aura of a powerful patriarch manifesting itself through his authority.

  “Cleria. You have a desire for the finer things in life, a taste I will not fault you for. But I believe I do not need remind you the value of a phoenix tear. The elders were quite…upset with your obscured use and wish for a trial, the ramifications of which I’m sure you understand, no?”

  His honeyed words were a gong in Cleria’s head. She knew the clan would not appreciate her using the tears, even more so when she did not disclose full details. But she didn’t expect their reaction to be this out of control. A clan trial would be the end of her.

  “I informed the elders I would see to this matter personally for I do not hold the belief you are a wasteful person, Cleria. So please, inform me why you used a phoenix tear on that boy?”

  “...”

  Of course he knew. She hadn’t mentioned the gender or age on her report. Only that she found a strange human and wished to investigate him more for possible value estimates. She did not include anything else.

  Once more, she was reminded of how strong her cousin was, and he was also the one she could trust with this information.

  “Cousin.”

  She leaned forward as well, imitating his serious posture. She was no longer dealing with Diehauser the older brother. She was speaking to Lord Belial. Words had to be chosen carefully.

  “It began when my peerage and I were hunting the stray devil Jonathan. When we found him, he was dead and the child was unconscious next to him. I sensed he was worth five pieces so I tried to give him my rook, but it failed. The result was the same with my queen piece. So I resorte—”

  Diehauser raised his hand to stop her.

  “Could you repeat that? Apologies, Cleria. But I do need details on exactly how the rejection happened.”

  Diehauser could not help but interrupt. If he truly heard correctly, Cleria just described a phenomenon that has never happened once since the introduction of the peerage system, not with a human.

  “When I took my rook, it wasn’t like pushing down on a spring. There was no rejection nor was there a force resisting me back. It was more like…”

  Cleria paused to find the appropriate analogy. It resembled the feeling of pressing against solid rock.

  “It was like using the wrong key. Even with my queen, the piece just stopped and refused to sink further.”

  “...”

  Diehauser’s expression shifted. His brows lowered in though. According to his knowledge, the boy had no trace of special lineages or unique aura.

  “Cleria. Did you perhaps thoroughly check him? There might be a possibility he is a reincarnation.”

  Old souls could be the possibility. The Buddhists and denizens of the Taoist pantheon were notoriously difficult to convert to devils due to reincarnation.

  “No.”

  Cleria shook her head.

  “I also suspected he might be an experiment of the church created to resist reincarnation, but I sensed no holy energy from him.”

  Unauthorized use: this story is on Amazon without permission from the author. Report any sightings.

  The Church alongside Grigori were one of the few organisations secretly known to conduct experiments. But if it wasn’t them…

  [Then what?]

  Diehauser mused inwardly. This was getting interesting. His chair groaned when he adjusted his position. He leaned back with his eyes closed, his nose pointed to the ceiling. His gloved hands were clasped together in thought. What could it be? Did his cousin discover an enigma?

  “Cleria. Show me your pieces.”

  Cleria complied. Her rook and queen pieces materialised in midair. A wave of her hand sent them hovering to her cousin. He took them both and analysed them quietly with interest.

  Her toes were already curling in the insides of her heels. She knew that gleam in his eyes. It was one of interest, the silent exhilaration at discovering a mystery, a puzzle that would be a challenge to solve. She would admit. She was also getting interested in the blonde she found. What made him so special?

  “Cleria.”

  Diehauser’s eyes glowed white with demonic energy. Cleria’s rook was held between his fingers.

  “Did you notice the edge of your rook has been…chipped?”

  The words came out more questioning to himself than his cousin. The crown of her rook had a very small section that seemed to have been filed down. Yet it also looked like it was corroded by acid. He sensed no energy, not even the faintest amount.

  “Chipped?”

  Cleria stood up in mild surprise and confusion.

  “Take a look yourself. Unless you dropped it, how would you explain this?”

  Diehauser tossed it over and she caught it in her palm. It was a jest. There was no way an evil piece could be “chipped” like some stone carving. The material it was made of wasn’t something that could be damaged by mundane sources. Yet as she took a closer look, she saw that it was indeed chipped, like the edge was poorly sandpapered off.

  “What is…how?”

  She was lost for words.

  “Take out your queen piece. If it is the same, we would have our culprit, no?”

  Cleria listened and took out her queen. The ruby-red chess piece shimmered under the light of the afternoon sun. She slowly rotated it and scanned the grooves for any damages. It only took moments before she found a groove that stretched too deep. This one didn’t look like chipped stone, but more like molten plastic.

  “There it is.”

  She reached out to give it, but Diehauser shook his head.

  “No need, cousin. We will visit this anomaly at a later date. Let’s use this time as an opportunity to discuss your mistake.”

  Diehauser placed his elbows on the table. His fingers interlocked with one another and supported his chin like a bridge. There was a small smile on his face along with a subtle gleam to his eyes.

  “That boy is someone who can resist reincarnation…and you gave him to the Shinto.”

  There was subtle humour in his words.

  “Rather brave even for you, Cleria. Don’t you agree?”

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  |DxD|

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  It began with a flicker of the eyelid. Then a twitch of a finger. The sweet afternoon breeze flew through the window and ruffled the loose strands of blonde hair on his face. He lay there in silence, nary thought in his head.

  It started slowly. The smell of wood and old clothes was replaced by a flowery scent mixed with milk. The bed he was in was soft like it was trying to hug him. The comfortable throes of slumber were calling out to him, beckoning him to return to a deep sleep he had not experienced since…forever.

  His eyes opened, pale blue like the sky itself. He stared quietly at the ceiling, its unfamiliar colour not quite sinking in yet. Another day had arrived, another day where he had to train again. It was…tiring. Just for today, he’d go back to sleep—

  “?!”

  The haziness vanished the moment he tried to raise his arm. A phantom pain like acid coursed through his veins, flooding his mind. He sat up and immediately clutched his right forearm. A hiss had already escaped him. Why did it hurt so much? The moment he looked at it, the memories poured in.

  Blood, blood, and more blood. Lines of the copper-scented liquid trickled into his vision like tiny rivers. Flash memories of the forest flooded his head. A menacing growl, serrated teeth, and the blinding sensation of flesh being torn into—all of it assaulted him.

  His eyes widened, unmoving in shock. A bloody mouth and glowing eyes formed the hallmark of his thoughts. His vision darkened. The soft carpets were replaced by leaf litter. The light became the familiar dim of the forest. His arm froze, paralysed from the elbow down.

  Reality and illusion interchanged like rapid flashes. He smelled the stench of rotten breath mixed with copper. He saw chunks of flesh and skin from his forearm hanging loosely like clothes on a line. He felt the tongue licking his bone before jagged teeth crunched their way into the marrow.

  Deep breaths failed to take hold. His throat felt clogged. A tight, crushing pain spread where he was struck by the soles of a boot. His eyes never left his arm. His pupils were frozen, unblinking even as sweat dripped over his eyelashes. Excess saliva seeped through his half-opened lips, accompanied by breaths so shallow and quick they wouldn’t move paper.

  Slowly however, the crushing sensation in his chest stopped. His throat opened up, allowing him to breathe. The corners of his vision cleared and the electrifying feeling in his forearm faded.

  “I’m here, child. It will be fine.”

  He almost flinched, but a soothing sensation spread through his body like cool water in his veins. The soft scent of flowers entered his nose. Her arm wrapped around his stomach, pulling him into an embrace he did not flee from.

  “It’s all over, now.”

  Shuri held him in a gentle hug from behind. She pulled him in so he could lean on her chest. She did not mind his dirty hair lining her clothes with crusted blood.

  “You’re safe here.”

  There was an energy coursing through him, an energy she didn’t notice before. It was unique and opened up questions, but it made no difference. He was a child. That was all that mattered. Until Cleria came for him, she would continue to do her job as a healer.

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  |DxD|

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  The scent of strawberries and soap wafted in the bathroom. That bath was still lined with droplets from when she cleaned it earlier. The door opened and Shuri walked in carrying torn and bloodied pants. She put them down before leaning over to turn on the tap.

  Water rushed into the tub as the sound of slow steps on the floorboards thudded closer and closer. She looked over her shoulder and saw Igor standing there, naked as the day he was born. His eyes were vacant and unfeeling. His hair dragged in the air like an old mop. He looked…off.

  Shuri hurried over to him before crouching down.

  “Where’s the towel I gave you? You’ll get cold.”

  In truth, his body was unnaturally warm. A normal human would suffer from severe heatstroke, but he was still fine.

  “Never mind. Let’s give you a proper wash.”

  She led him to the bath where the water had filled to a sufficient level. She was patient, slowly guiding him so he wouldn’t slip and fall.

  “Get in. There’s some parts of you that I hadn’t been able to wash.”

  He quietly complied. He heaved one leg after the other into the water and sat down. On the other side, Shuri had opened a cabinet and was looking for something. The seconds dragged until her hands slowed and she stood up.

  There was a pause. Worry flickered when she turned to face Igor. Indecision weighed on her brows.

  “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I’m just going downstairs.”

  She swiftly walked out of the bathroom, leaving the boy alone. Since he awoke, he had not spoken a word nor did she expect him to. Those eyes, lifeless like those of the dead, were eyes she had seen in the warriors of her clan. Seeing them in a child…

  [I hope you will tell me everything, Cleria.]

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  |DxD|

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  Moments prior…

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  The world was blurry yet at the same time, very clear. The tiles of the bathroom floor, the ceramic finish of the bath, the stainless steel taps—all of it appeared with extreme clarity and brightness in his eyes. But they also felt illusory like a cloudy meadow.

  There was a sense of calm in this dream-like state, especially with the woman in front of him. She appeared fuzzy to him for some reason. He could see her face, but it was like he would forget it each time. The one thing he could retain was the scent of flowers and milk coming from her. It was…nice.

  “Where’s the towel I gave you? You’ll get cold.”

  Her voice was like a distant echo. It sounded ethereal yet also unmistakably real. He felt the faintest trace of confusion. Did she give him a towel? Odd.

  “Never mind. Let’s give you a proper wash.”

  A wash? Why would he need to wash? His thoughts were interrupted when a force gently pulled him forward. He stumbled slightly. His legs felt like pillars he could barely control. The force pulling him became one that pushed him from his shoulders.

  “Get in. There’s some parts of you that I hadn’t been able to wash.”

  His leg bumped against the tub. There was water inside and from the feeling of it, it was warm with a hint of soap. He placed his feet into the water and sat down quietly. He turned to look at the woman, but her appearance was once again blurry. Sometimes, he would see her very clearly, but more often than not, her face and figure would be hidden behind a shimmering veil of red smoke.

  He followed her figure when she went over to…a cabinet? He wasn’t sure. The corners of his vision were covered in hazy white mist.

  “I’ll be back in a bit, okay? I’m just going downstairs.”

  Downstairs? She was leaving? The words had just barely formed in his throat when the hem of her skirt disappeared beyond the door. Her presence was getting weaker along with her scent. The smell of flowers and milk was soon overturned by one of ceramic and detergent.

  His head remained turned towards the door. He would wait for her return, for that smell to draw closer again. But the opposite happened. The door—no, the horizon itself stretched away from him like a rubberband being pulled. The door suddenly became much farther than before, so far it seemed like the distance between the doors of a hall and the stage.

  [What’s…going on?]

  A breath caught in his throat. Something was wrong here. He wanted to get up and run, but his body felt heavier than lead. His limbs were numb like useless attachments that refused to move. His eyes remained focused on the door in a mix of fear and trepidation. He wanted more than anything for that woman to return because something…something didn’t feel right.

  It started with the brim of a faded newsboy cap. Then a finger, one smeared with dirt and blood, came into view. The stench of rot and rancid decay overwhelmed the scent of strawberries and soap. The figure stepped into the doorframe.

  Igor’s eyes widened. His grip on the tub’s frame strengthened. The man’s presence was unmistakable. His hands sprouted sharp claws. His lips split to reveal rows of serrated teeth. The evil grin on his face was something he would never forget.

  “I’ve been looking for you for quite a while, Igor.”

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  AN: A shame for our boy. Mama Shuri better come back before Igor does something to himself.

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  Chapter 6

  END