Cultivator of the Folding Type is a High School DxD fanfic. A venerable martial arts master from a cultivation world is reborn in another's body, in a world both familiar and strange—where gods, devils, and mythical beings hide from ordinary mortals. He continues his cultivation, but after helping a classmate, his life takes an unexpected turn. Canon—and more—awaits!
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The Foldable Cultivator [High School DxD]
- Thread starter Boroda Orka
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Chapter 1
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Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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"My stomach hurts," I told the guy across from me. I didn't get so much as a shred of sympathy.
"You piece of trash… How dare you…"
He never got to finish. It's hard to hurl abuse at someone when you've got a knife sticking out of your throat. Not a combat knife, either, just a perfectly innocent tool for peeling and chopping roots. Still capable of doing irreparable damage to a body, though… given its current location.
"I said my stomach hurts." I kicked the still-breathing lump in the face as it dropped to its knees, clutching the wound. "I'm in no mood to listen to the same thing for the twentieth time today."
Fucking cultivators, fucking traditions, fucking cookie-cutter morons everywhere I turned. Any second now, some piece of pig shit among the senior disciples would start throwing his weight around.
"Junior Disciple! You… you killed Junior Brother Pun!"
Right on cue. A fairly pretty girl, one of the senior disciples. She'd watched quite calmly as some self-important son of a bitch tried to grind a harmless junior alchemist into the dirt. Now she was choking on outrage while my victim choked on blood. And that little twat in a senior disciple's robes had damn well seen what he'd done to my pill.
"That scumbag's no brother of mine," I said, wincing again. "Besides…" I stared into the girl's green eyes. "My. Stomach. Hurts."
"And you killed Sun Pun over that?" Oh, just listen to all that righteous indignation. Not a hint of judgment in her eyes, though. The senior disciple was just going through the motions. She didn't give a damn about me. Sun mattered a little more, but she didn't give a damn about him either.
"I'm ready to kill on an industrial scale over this," I growled, making my way gingerly toward my cell. If I was going to croak, I'd rather do it in my own bed than curled up on the floor, howling.
My gut felt like it was being torn apart. Fucking pill, fucking dying bastard. How could I have missed that son of a busted condom and a half-witted donkey slipping something into the cauldron? The fucker had done a beautiful job of sabotaging it, too. The extra ingredient hadn't caused an explosion or disrupted the reaction. It had fit perfectly into the refining process, but completely fucked up the result. Which meant I'd be dead soon. Well, at least I'd have company.
A vicious smile broke through my grimace of pain as the twitching body on the floor went still. Pun had played his last prank. Fucking bastard… That pathetic imitation of the Weasley twins had driven every junior disciple up the fucking wall with his "jokes." Me included. And he'd gotten away with all of it because his father was a practitioner. Not an elder, but still more than a match for us juniors. Except that funny little shit hadn't considered that a dying rat could still tear your throat out.
"God, it hurts," I whimpered, taking tiny steps down the corridor. If I could just make it…
The pill… That beautiful, wonderful, magnificent pill. One of the jade achievements of my past lives (even after so many reincarnations, those names still made me laugh). A miracle drug—there was no other word for it—meant to completely rebuild my body and energy system. A leap forward. A breakthrough. In life after life, it had let me skip the early stages of cultivation. A cheat code for a newbie, a simple exploit for a veteran practitioner like me.
But rushing things… Never a good idea. Neither was getting cocky. I wanted to put my days as a junior disciple behind me as soon as possible. I'd been in a hurry, so I'd joined a sect for its resources. Faster than tracking down rare ingredients on my own. And safer, or so I'd thought. It was a road I'd traveled in life after life. Grit my teeth and put up with it, then "brew" myself a booster and become just another toad in the swamp. Then, once I had access to even rarer and more valuable resources, become the fattest toad of them all! And after that, move on.
Use drugs to get close to my old level, then keep cultivating, pushing higher and further, toward godhood and beyond mortal existence. But… I'd royally shit the bed. And what really stung was that I hadn't been brought down by some ancient practitioner, a demonic or divine beast, a god or a demon. Just an idiot. An idiot who'd been lucky enough to catch me tired and distracted, and in the end…
"Uuugh, suka…" I howled in Russian, bent into a pretzel. My energy system was going to shit, and so was my body. My dantian blazed like a star called the Sun, burning out the surrounding energy channels I'd spent two years preparing for a breakthrough… I could feel my guts tying themselves in knots. Only dozens of lifetimes of experience and more than a few torture "events" with me cast as the victim kept me from curling into a ball and screaming loud enough for the whole sect to hear.
How much time did I have left? Fuck if I knew. However long it took for the pill to finish me off or the dead bastard's daddy to find me. Did I regret killing him? Not one fucking bit! This was a goddamn cultivation world. People would rip your throat out for looking at them funny. Everything came down to personal strength. Literally everything!
Are you strong? The absolute strongest in the sect? So strong that you're stronger than literally everyone else in it? Then it's yours. All its resources are yours. All its female cultivators, too. Well, if you're a woman yourself or "swing the other way," help yourself to all the men instead. Me, I was as straight as they come, but after so many lifetimes, I'd seen all sorts…
Anyway, are you stronger than everyone in the city? Stronger than the whole city put together, including the ruling family and its guard? Then the city's got a new ruling family. All the old family's wealth is yours. All the cuties are yours. And so on. The country's ruler will just applaud your strength. But he'll start keeping an eye on you, just in case, and getting a bigger club ready. So he can hand out a preemptive ass-kicking before he gets one himself.
Stronger than everyone in an empire, a realm, a kingdom? It's yours. Strongest on the continent? Help yourself. Everyone below you is trash; everyone above you is respected, revered, wise beyond measure. Until they become trash too, of course.
In my last few lives, I'd become the strongest person in a medium-sized country. I never parked my ass on the throne, though; that would've gotten in the way of cultivation. It didn't cost me any respect. The rulers of those countries were wise men, and they showered the Great Practitioner—whose countenance shone with divine wisdom and whose kick packed the power of a thousand dragons—with all the goodies I needed. From rare ingredients to their own daughters, if they had any.
And why not? It suited the ruler, and I was happy with the deal. The girls were usually drop-dead gorgeous. Especially the second-to-last ruler's daughter—just… damn, wow, and a few dozen more along those lines! Besides, her daddy didn't have a male heir. After her father, the Emperor, died, my wife did the ruling and I did the cultivating. Everyone was happy. My boy took the throne when she died of old age. I kept watching over my descendants for a few more generations, until one of my great-great-great-grandsons got too fucking big for his britches.
"Ooooh…" I swore in one long vowel as I lowered myself onto the hard bed in my tiny cell.
Right about now, some xianxia and cultivation fanboy would be screaming that I was stupid, a moron, an idiot—hell, a stool had more brains than I did. You're supposed to be cultivating your way to godhood!!! Jerk off that dantian and hurry up and evolve. Broaden your horizons and all that other bullshit!
And I'd have a question for that smartass: "Know how to say 'It's not as simple as you think, my little buttercup' in Chinese?" He'd ask, "How?" And I'd tell him, "Go fuck yourself, moron."
Cultivation isn't masturbation. Despite all the jokes about jerking it off, a dantian isn't a dick. Cultivation is an incredibly complicated process that takes more than mindless meditation and working out. You also need those mythical flashes of enlightenment. And I… was stuck. No enlightenment for me. My mind wasn't opening onto new horizons, nor was I fathoming the universe in the sound of a single drop of water falling into a lake. Fuck-all. Fuckity-fuck-all. Yep.
And I'd had spectacularly bad luck with those much-vaunted Legacies of the Great Ancient Practitioners. The very first one—the Jade Elder's Ring of Grandeur—just fried my energy channels and blew up my dantian when I slipped it onto my finger with a gleeful "heh-heh." That was my third life among the "culties." Or rather, the end of my third life.
The Staff of the Four Demons… First, it left me flinching at the number four. Second, I never again laid a finger on anything with "demon" in its name. Without me even noticing, that stick and the "guests" trapped inside it had warped my mind so badly that I spent another four lifetimes as a complete bastard. A concentrated, crystallized piece of shit. When I finally came to my senses, I prayed to every god for the health and good fortune of the people who'd killed me in those lives. As for what I'd done while I had the staff, I still try not to think about it.
And no, I don't think of myself as a nice guy. Not by a long shot. Worlds where "might makes right" is the rule quickly beat any naive softness out of you. Even back then, I thought it perfectly normal to wipe out a clan I had a blood feud with, so there'd be no one left to avenge them. And by "wipe out," I mean everyone. Every last one of them. Or snap someone's neck for insulting me. Hell, even beat someone up for looking at me funny. And even I thought the Staff of the Four Demons had turned me into a bloodthirsty, vicious, unprincipled, deranged son of a bitch. Just to give you an idea of how far off my rocker I was back then.
I'd learned my lesson. I wasn't some xianxia protagonist with plot armor and plot conveniences growing on trees. But I kept looking for something to make me stronger anyway. Fat lot of good that did me. The golden veins of an ancient practitioner killed me when I tried to graft them into my body. The God Pill just burned through my stomach, and I croaked from internal bleeding. And when I put on the Heavenly Dragon Pendant… it summoned a fucking dragon that ripped me apart like a dog with a rag doll.
And the last one, the Ancient One's Ring of Wisdom, which I'd found three lives ago… contained the spirit of some practitioner weaker than me, who tried to take over my body. That was when I lost it—and let him have it. Eyes bulging and foam dripping from my mouth, I beat the shit out of that bearded old fart until he dissipated. And the whole time I was screaming: "You motherfucking bastard, get over here, you piece of dog shit! You thought you could fuck with me, you stinking shithead, you motherfucker, huh? Come on, then, try fucking with me! I'll fuck you up myself, you bastard, you goddamn jerk-off, damn you…" Yeeah… I really went off the deep end that time.
After that, though, I quit hunting for cheats and stuck to making my own. If something falls into my lap, sure, I might give it another shot. Luckily, there's no life counter; I just get reborn with all my progress reset to zero. But running myself ragged across continents in search of yet another brutal, horrifying death? No, thank you. I'd rather work on myself and try to finally make a breakthrough.
Besides, I know a hell of a lot of ways to cultivate. You can spend years meditating under a waterfall, level up by stealing your enemies' life force, or absorb energy from all sorts of celestial bodies, the Heavens, Hell, the Planes. And there are a hell of a lot more options. But! All of it, every last fucking bit of it, comes down to enlightenment. Even demonic practices, which I'm frankly not a fan of, require you to understand the "darkness and hell" within yourself.
The first of my burned-out energy channels snapped with the phantom twang of a breaking string. Not long now. I stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting to die. For one thing, my corpse would look dignified. I'd even made sure my mug looked suitably stony. For another, I always try to feel every moment of my own death. There's a faint hope it might help me make a breakthrough, but I'm not about to off myself just for that kind of meditation. So I seize the moment. Oh… Here comes the darkness… Well, hello, sweetheart. I've actually missed you. What's the next challenge going to be? Who will I be this time? A poor fisherman's son? An Emperor's grandson?
I have a theory that my cycle of reincarnation is broken. How does it work for normal people? You kick the bucket, and that's it. Game over. The loss to end all losses. Me? I croak, and blissful darkness and nothingness settle over my consciousness like a soft blanket. It's like sleep, only deeper. Hazy images flicker through that thick blanket, along with distant voices and my own cries as a baby. None of it disturbs the sleep of death—just memories that will surface once I wake.
Then… it's like someone flips a switch. I wake up at different ages. Sometimes I'm three, sometimes twelve. But never older than fifteen. Maybe I've even lived entire lives without ever remembering who I used to be, but that's just speculation.
This time, I was eight. As soon as I woke, I absorbed my new self into my old one, assimilating the knowledge, language, and habits of this new life. I became both my old self and my new self at once. Except… what percentage of our combined memories could an eight-year-old possibly account for? That's right. A tiny, almost imperceptible fraction of a percent.
But this time, when I woke up on the couch in front of the TV and took in my surroundings, I got one hell of a surprise. First, this world had never heard of cultivators. An eight-year-old would've known about them. Second, I was in Japan. Third, this was a technologically advanced world, and right now I was… watching Sailor Moon!
Okay… okay… OKAY!!! Fuck all that! I'll think about it later! It's been an eternity since I last stared at the idiot box, so I officially declare this my luckiest rebirth yet. Long live normal books, not all that pompous pseudo-Chinese prose! Long live anime and manga! Long live Hollywood and Soyuzmultfilm*! Time to cultivate in comfort!!! And I won't have to worry about some Enlightened High-and-Mighty Prick showing up to beat the shit out of me, saying, "You motherfucking piece of trash, get over here…"
Parents… You know, they really get on teenagers' nerves. Of course their kids love them. But they still get on teenagers' nerves. I should know. I've had kids, and I got on their nerves. Hormones, stupidity, idiocy, and all the rest.
But a kid's irritation doesn't even come close to that of an ancient cultivator whose mom won't let him stay out late. It's fucking surreal. Things are a lot easier in cultivation worlds. You're seven, but you've polished up your dantian and advanced through a few stages of cultivation all on your own? You can walk on water and snap century-old trees in half with a punch from your tiny fist? You're a prodigy. Your parents are proud of you, and no one would even dream of telling you no. After all, you're a genius, a talent that comes along once in a thousand years! Your father respects you and brags about you to his friends, while your mother cries tears of joy and basks in her friends' envy.
But here, I don't want to stand out too much! Cultivate or not? There's only one answer: of course I will! But in a world where we don't exist (at least officially), I need to be careful about it. I fully intend to live here as long and as peacefully as possible. Not because I'm tired or anything, but because I'd rather not run from armies, conquer countries, or end up with a tactical nuke dropped on my head. I'll live the quiet life of an ancient cultivator, and my reward for keeping things quiet will be lots and lots of entertainment—the kind that plain old Earth, where I was born the first time around, has in spades.
Yes, it's that simple. No, I'm not an idiot. It's just that when you're reborn into some version of the Middle Ages, life after life, you start desperately missing things like Sailor Moon, game consoles, Brazilian soap operas—even commercials! Especially Japanese ones! The stuff my fellow Japanese come up with just leaves me speechless.
But hey! I still have to cultivate! Progress matters. Maybe this will be the life when enlightenment finally comes to me and I make a breakthrough? But without the right pills, that'll take forever, and it won't be easy! Tracking down the plants, minerals, and other ingredients I need takes time, too. Some have to be gathered at the stroke of midnight by the light of a full moon. Others need to grow where a childless widow's corpse was buried—or meet some other ridiculous requirement.
Once I've leveled up, I'll be able to find energy-rich ingredients easily enough, of course. For now, though, I have to stick to the rules. What I've managed to find so far is incredibly weak compared with the ingredients from the "cultie" worlds. And I often have no idea what any of it does, so I'll have to experiment…
So I ended up looking like a kid playing at being a naturalist. In middle school, I even joined the nature club and went on every field trip. I wiped out every mouse and rat in the area testing potions and pills. And I did it all while sneaking around and hiding what I was up to. That's hard to pull off when you're a kid. Plus school ate up my time, plus kendo practice, plus wushu practice, plus yoga.
After all, I needed a cover story for a body far too developed for a kid, not to mention my strength, my flexibility, and all that meditating. That left me barely a couple of hours a day for the entertainment I'd been missing. But I wasn't complaining. Those were the two hours I savored most.
Eventually, I got used to my parents getting in my way and on my nerves. They couldn't get used to the way I lived.
At first, the adults in the Chiba family couldn't get over what a great kid I was. I was the kid every other mom compared her own to. I played sports, got straight A's, didn't waste time on stupid crap, and never got caught doing anything I shouldn't! But that was only at first. Then it started bothering them that I… had no childhood. I get it, but I couldn't exactly tell them I didn't need the damn thing, could I? I'd had plenty of childhoods already. I was sick of them!
Mom and Dad started trying to make me take breaks. Sometimes I even let them talk me into watching cartoons instead of meditating… But that was nothing. Then Grandpa came to stay and rolled into our already tense household like a tank. The old man fired his main gun with a prediction that horrified my parents: if I kept being such a raging workaholic, there'd be no girlfriend for me and no grandkids for them. Me, I didn't give a damn—I had plenty of time. It would all happen in its own time. My folks, though…
That sly old coot probably wanted to see his great-grandkids himself. And he knew his son—my dad—inside out. He knew Mom pretty well, too. His little bombshell went off with a bang, and Mom and Dad decided to take action.
For ages, I dodged introductions to the daughters of Mom's friends. I didn't have time for that right then. Especially not for a platonic relationship. And that was probably a mistake. Because Dad pulled a fast one—he swapped the high school I was supposed to attend for this…
"A thorn among roses, huh? Well, damn…" I muttered, taking in the buildings of Kuou Academy in Kuou. The former girls' school had only gone coed a couple of years ago, so there were far more lovely young ladies here than boys. And that was going to cause me a hell of a lot of trouble…
Notes
* Soyuzmultfilm is a Soviet and Russian animation studio founded in Moscow on June 10, 1936.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
"You piece of trash… How dare you…"
He never got to finish. It's hard to hurl abuse at someone when you've got a knife sticking out of your throat. Not a combat knife, either, just a perfectly innocent tool for peeling and chopping roots. Still capable of doing irreparable damage to a body, though… given its current location.
"I said my stomach hurts." I kicked the still-breathing lump in the face as it dropped to its knees, clutching the wound. "I'm in no mood to listen to the same thing for the twentieth time today."
Fucking cultivators, fucking traditions, fucking cookie-cutter morons everywhere I turned. Any second now, some piece of pig shit among the senior disciples would start throwing his weight around.
"Junior Disciple! You… you killed Junior Brother Pun!"
Right on cue. A fairly pretty girl, one of the senior disciples. She'd watched quite calmly as some self-important son of a bitch tried to grind a harmless junior alchemist into the dirt. Now she was choking on outrage while my victim choked on blood. And that little twat in a senior disciple's robes had damn well seen what he'd done to my pill.
"That scumbag's no brother of mine," I said, wincing again. "Besides…" I stared into the girl's green eyes. "My. Stomach. Hurts."
"And you killed Sun Pun over that?" Oh, just listen to all that righteous indignation. Not a hint of judgment in her eyes, though. The senior disciple was just going through the motions. She didn't give a damn about me. Sun mattered a little more, but she didn't give a damn about him either.
"I'm ready to kill on an industrial scale over this," I growled, making my way gingerly toward my cell. If I was going to croak, I'd rather do it in my own bed than curled up on the floor, howling.
My gut felt like it was being torn apart. Fucking pill, fucking dying bastard. How could I have missed that son of a busted condom and a half-witted donkey slipping something into the cauldron? The fucker had done a beautiful job of sabotaging it, too. The extra ingredient hadn't caused an explosion or disrupted the reaction. It had fit perfectly into the refining process, but completely fucked up the result. Which meant I'd be dead soon. Well, at least I'd have company.
A vicious smile broke through my grimace of pain as the twitching body on the floor went still. Pun had played his last prank. Fucking bastard… That pathetic imitation of the Weasley twins had driven every junior disciple up the fucking wall with his "jokes." Me included. And he'd gotten away with all of it because his father was a practitioner. Not an elder, but still more than a match for us juniors. Except that funny little shit hadn't considered that a dying rat could still tear your throat out.
"God, it hurts," I whimpered, taking tiny steps down the corridor. If I could just make it…
The pill… That beautiful, wonderful, magnificent pill. One of the jade achievements of my past lives (even after so many reincarnations, those names still made me laugh). A miracle drug—there was no other word for it—meant to completely rebuild my body and energy system. A leap forward. A breakthrough. In life after life, it had let me skip the early stages of cultivation. A cheat code for a newbie, a simple exploit for a veteran practitioner like me.
But rushing things… Never a good idea. Neither was getting cocky. I wanted to put my days as a junior disciple behind me as soon as possible. I'd been in a hurry, so I'd joined a sect for its resources. Faster than tracking down rare ingredients on my own. And safer, or so I'd thought. It was a road I'd traveled in life after life. Grit my teeth and put up with it, then "brew" myself a booster and become just another toad in the swamp. Then, once I had access to even rarer and more valuable resources, become the fattest toad of them all! And after that, move on.
Use drugs to get close to my old level, then keep cultivating, pushing higher and further, toward godhood and beyond mortal existence. But… I'd royally shit the bed. And what really stung was that I hadn't been brought down by some ancient practitioner, a demonic or divine beast, a god or a demon. Just an idiot. An idiot who'd been lucky enough to catch me tired and distracted, and in the end…
"Uuugh, suka…" I howled in Russian, bent into a pretzel. My energy system was going to shit, and so was my body. My dantian blazed like a star called the Sun, burning out the surrounding energy channels I'd spent two years preparing for a breakthrough… I could feel my guts tying themselves in knots. Only dozens of lifetimes of experience and more than a few torture "events" with me cast as the victim kept me from curling into a ball and screaming loud enough for the whole sect to hear.
How much time did I have left? Fuck if I knew. However long it took for the pill to finish me off or the dead bastard's daddy to find me. Did I regret killing him? Not one fucking bit! This was a goddamn cultivation world. People would rip your throat out for looking at them funny. Everything came down to personal strength. Literally everything!
Are you strong? The absolute strongest in the sect? So strong that you're stronger than literally everyone else in it? Then it's yours. All its resources are yours. All its female cultivators, too. Well, if you're a woman yourself or "swing the other way," help yourself to all the men instead. Me, I was as straight as they come, but after so many lifetimes, I'd seen all sorts…
Anyway, are you stronger than everyone in the city? Stronger than the whole city put together, including the ruling family and its guard? Then the city's got a new ruling family. All the old family's wealth is yours. All the cuties are yours. And so on. The country's ruler will just applaud your strength. But he'll start keeping an eye on you, just in case, and getting a bigger club ready. So he can hand out a preemptive ass-kicking before he gets one himself.
Stronger than everyone in an empire, a realm, a kingdom? It's yours. Strongest on the continent? Help yourself. Everyone below you is trash; everyone above you is respected, revered, wise beyond measure. Until they become trash too, of course.
In my last few lives, I'd become the strongest person in a medium-sized country. I never parked my ass on the throne, though; that would've gotten in the way of cultivation. It didn't cost me any respect. The rulers of those countries were wise men, and they showered the Great Practitioner—whose countenance shone with divine wisdom and whose kick packed the power of a thousand dragons—with all the goodies I needed. From rare ingredients to their own daughters, if they had any.
And why not? It suited the ruler, and I was happy with the deal. The girls were usually drop-dead gorgeous. Especially the second-to-last ruler's daughter—just… damn, wow, and a few dozen more along those lines! Besides, her daddy didn't have a male heir. After her father, the Emperor, died, my wife did the ruling and I did the cultivating. Everyone was happy. My boy took the throne when she died of old age. I kept watching over my descendants for a few more generations, until one of my great-great-great-grandsons got too fucking big for his britches.
"Ooooh…" I swore in one long vowel as I lowered myself onto the hard bed in my tiny cell.
Right about now, some xianxia and cultivation fanboy would be screaming that I was stupid, a moron, an idiot—hell, a stool had more brains than I did. You're supposed to be cultivating your way to godhood!!! Jerk off that dantian and hurry up and evolve. Broaden your horizons and all that other bullshit!
And I'd have a question for that smartass: "Know how to say 'It's not as simple as you think, my little buttercup' in Chinese?" He'd ask, "How?" And I'd tell him, "Go fuck yourself, moron."
Cultivation isn't masturbation. Despite all the jokes about jerking it off, a dantian isn't a dick. Cultivation is an incredibly complicated process that takes more than mindless meditation and working out. You also need those mythical flashes of enlightenment. And I… was stuck. No enlightenment for me. My mind wasn't opening onto new horizons, nor was I fathoming the universe in the sound of a single drop of water falling into a lake. Fuck-all. Fuckity-fuck-all. Yep.
And I'd had spectacularly bad luck with those much-vaunted Legacies of the Great Ancient Practitioners. The very first one—the Jade Elder's Ring of Grandeur—just fried my energy channels and blew up my dantian when I slipped it onto my finger with a gleeful "heh-heh." That was my third life among the "culties." Or rather, the end of my third life.
The Staff of the Four Demons… First, it left me flinching at the number four. Second, I never again laid a finger on anything with "demon" in its name. Without me even noticing, that stick and the "guests" trapped inside it had warped my mind so badly that I spent another four lifetimes as a complete bastard. A concentrated, crystallized piece of shit. When I finally came to my senses, I prayed to every god for the health and good fortune of the people who'd killed me in those lives. As for what I'd done while I had the staff, I still try not to think about it.
And no, I don't think of myself as a nice guy. Not by a long shot. Worlds where "might makes right" is the rule quickly beat any naive softness out of you. Even back then, I thought it perfectly normal to wipe out a clan I had a blood feud with, so there'd be no one left to avenge them. And by "wipe out," I mean everyone. Every last one of them. Or snap someone's neck for insulting me. Hell, even beat someone up for looking at me funny. And even I thought the Staff of the Four Demons had turned me into a bloodthirsty, vicious, unprincipled, deranged son of a bitch. Just to give you an idea of how far off my rocker I was back then.
I'd learned my lesson. I wasn't some xianxia protagonist with plot armor and plot conveniences growing on trees. But I kept looking for something to make me stronger anyway. Fat lot of good that did me. The golden veins of an ancient practitioner killed me when I tried to graft them into my body. The God Pill just burned through my stomach, and I croaked from internal bleeding. And when I put on the Heavenly Dragon Pendant… it summoned a fucking dragon that ripped me apart like a dog with a rag doll.
And the last one, the Ancient One's Ring of Wisdom, which I'd found three lives ago… contained the spirit of some practitioner weaker than me, who tried to take over my body. That was when I lost it—and let him have it. Eyes bulging and foam dripping from my mouth, I beat the shit out of that bearded old fart until he dissipated. And the whole time I was screaming: "You motherfucking bastard, get over here, you piece of dog shit! You thought you could fuck with me, you stinking shithead, you motherfucker, huh? Come on, then, try fucking with me! I'll fuck you up myself, you bastard, you goddamn jerk-off, damn you…" Yeeah… I really went off the deep end that time.
After that, though, I quit hunting for cheats and stuck to making my own. If something falls into my lap, sure, I might give it another shot. Luckily, there's no life counter; I just get reborn with all my progress reset to zero. But running myself ragged across continents in search of yet another brutal, horrifying death? No, thank you. I'd rather work on myself and try to finally make a breakthrough.
Besides, I know a hell of a lot of ways to cultivate. You can spend years meditating under a waterfall, level up by stealing your enemies' life force, or absorb energy from all sorts of celestial bodies, the Heavens, Hell, the Planes. And there are a hell of a lot more options. But! All of it, every last fucking bit of it, comes down to enlightenment. Even demonic practices, which I'm frankly not a fan of, require you to understand the "darkness and hell" within yourself.
The first of my burned-out energy channels snapped with the phantom twang of a breaking string. Not long now. I stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting to die. For one thing, my corpse would look dignified. I'd even made sure my mug looked suitably stony. For another, I always try to feel every moment of my own death. There's a faint hope it might help me make a breakthrough, but I'm not about to off myself just for that kind of meditation. So I seize the moment. Oh… Here comes the darkness… Well, hello, sweetheart. I've actually missed you. What's the next challenge going to be? Who will I be this time? A poor fisherman's son? An Emperor's grandson?
I have a theory that my cycle of reincarnation is broken. How does it work for normal people? You kick the bucket, and that's it. Game over. The loss to end all losses. Me? I croak, and blissful darkness and nothingness settle over my consciousness like a soft blanket. It's like sleep, only deeper. Hazy images flicker through that thick blanket, along with distant voices and my own cries as a baby. None of it disturbs the sleep of death—just memories that will surface once I wake.
Then… it's like someone flips a switch. I wake up at different ages. Sometimes I'm three, sometimes twelve. But never older than fifteen. Maybe I've even lived entire lives without ever remembering who I used to be, but that's just speculation.
This time, I was eight. As soon as I woke, I absorbed my new self into my old one, assimilating the knowledge, language, and habits of this new life. I became both my old self and my new self at once. Except… what percentage of our combined memories could an eight-year-old possibly account for? That's right. A tiny, almost imperceptible fraction of a percent.
But this time, when I woke up on the couch in front of the TV and took in my surroundings, I got one hell of a surprise. First, this world had never heard of cultivators. An eight-year-old would've known about them. Second, I was in Japan. Third, this was a technologically advanced world, and right now I was… watching Sailor Moon!
Okay… okay… OKAY!!! Fuck all that! I'll think about it later! It's been an eternity since I last stared at the idiot box, so I officially declare this my luckiest rebirth yet. Long live normal books, not all that pompous pseudo-Chinese prose! Long live anime and manga! Long live Hollywood and Soyuzmultfilm*! Time to cultivate in comfort!!! And I won't have to worry about some Enlightened High-and-Mighty Prick showing up to beat the shit out of me, saying, "You motherfucking piece of trash, get over here…"
Parents… You know, they really get on teenagers' nerves. Of course their kids love them. But they still get on teenagers' nerves. I should know. I've had kids, and I got on their nerves. Hormones, stupidity, idiocy, and all the rest.
But a kid's irritation doesn't even come close to that of an ancient cultivator whose mom won't let him stay out late. It's fucking surreal. Things are a lot easier in cultivation worlds. You're seven, but you've polished up your dantian and advanced through a few stages of cultivation all on your own? You can walk on water and snap century-old trees in half with a punch from your tiny fist? You're a prodigy. Your parents are proud of you, and no one would even dream of telling you no. After all, you're a genius, a talent that comes along once in a thousand years! Your father respects you and brags about you to his friends, while your mother cries tears of joy and basks in her friends' envy.
But here, I don't want to stand out too much! Cultivate or not? There's only one answer: of course I will! But in a world where we don't exist (at least officially), I need to be careful about it. I fully intend to live here as long and as peacefully as possible. Not because I'm tired or anything, but because I'd rather not run from armies, conquer countries, or end up with a tactical nuke dropped on my head. I'll live the quiet life of an ancient cultivator, and my reward for keeping things quiet will be lots and lots of entertainment—the kind that plain old Earth, where I was born the first time around, has in spades.
Yes, it's that simple. No, I'm not an idiot. It's just that when you're reborn into some version of the Middle Ages, life after life, you start desperately missing things like Sailor Moon, game consoles, Brazilian soap operas—even commercials! Especially Japanese ones! The stuff my fellow Japanese come up with just leaves me speechless.
But hey! I still have to cultivate! Progress matters. Maybe this will be the life when enlightenment finally comes to me and I make a breakthrough? But without the right pills, that'll take forever, and it won't be easy! Tracking down the plants, minerals, and other ingredients I need takes time, too. Some have to be gathered at the stroke of midnight by the light of a full moon. Others need to grow where a childless widow's corpse was buried—or meet some other ridiculous requirement.
Once I've leveled up, I'll be able to find energy-rich ingredients easily enough, of course. For now, though, I have to stick to the rules. What I've managed to find so far is incredibly weak compared with the ingredients from the "cultie" worlds. And I often have no idea what any of it does, so I'll have to experiment…
So I ended up looking like a kid playing at being a naturalist. In middle school, I even joined the nature club and went on every field trip. I wiped out every mouse and rat in the area testing potions and pills. And I did it all while sneaking around and hiding what I was up to. That's hard to pull off when you're a kid. Plus school ate up my time, plus kendo practice, plus wushu practice, plus yoga.
After all, I needed a cover story for a body far too developed for a kid, not to mention my strength, my flexibility, and all that meditating. That left me barely a couple of hours a day for the entertainment I'd been missing. But I wasn't complaining. Those were the two hours I savored most.
Eventually, I got used to my parents getting in my way and on my nerves. They couldn't get used to the way I lived.
At first, the adults in the Chiba family couldn't get over what a great kid I was. I was the kid every other mom compared her own to. I played sports, got straight A's, didn't waste time on stupid crap, and never got caught doing anything I shouldn't! But that was only at first. Then it started bothering them that I… had no childhood. I get it, but I couldn't exactly tell them I didn't need the damn thing, could I? I'd had plenty of childhoods already. I was sick of them!
Mom and Dad started trying to make me take breaks. Sometimes I even let them talk me into watching cartoons instead of meditating… But that was nothing. Then Grandpa came to stay and rolled into our already tense household like a tank. The old man fired his main gun with a prediction that horrified my parents: if I kept being such a raging workaholic, there'd be no girlfriend for me and no grandkids for them. Me, I didn't give a damn—I had plenty of time. It would all happen in its own time. My folks, though…
That sly old coot probably wanted to see his great-grandkids himself. And he knew his son—my dad—inside out. He knew Mom pretty well, too. His little bombshell went off with a bang, and Mom and Dad decided to take action.
For ages, I dodged introductions to the daughters of Mom's friends. I didn't have time for that right then. Especially not for a platonic relationship. And that was probably a mistake. Because Dad pulled a fast one—he swapped the high school I was supposed to attend for this…
"A thorn among roses, huh? Well, damn…" I muttered, taking in the buildings of Kuou Academy in Kuou. The former girls' school had only gone coed a couple of years ago, so there were far more lovely young ladies here than boys. And that was going to cause me a hell of a lot of trouble…
Notes
* Soyuzmultfilm is a Soviet and Russian animation studio founded in Moscow on June 10, 1936.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Last edited:
Chapter 2
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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A high school with lots and lots of girls. Good thing or bad? Oddly enough, it's fine. I barely stand out, apart from being a guy and getting great grades. I haven't joined a club—I couldn't find one that takes regular trips into the countryside, and none of the others interest me.
Girls haven't caused me any trouble, either. I'm not exactly sociable: I don't make friends, I barely talk, and I've earned a reputation as a gloomy loner. Suits me just fine. I did have to turn down a couple of girls, though. Apparently even I'm somebody's type, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now.
Incidentally, after I very politely turned down two girls, the Pervert Trio started giving me odd, pitying looks. They're fun to watch. Their antics give me plenty of laughs, frequent bouts of secondhand embarrassment, and the occasional involuntary combo of the Palm-to-Face Technique. They wanted girlfriends so badly and talked about boobs so often that they scared girls away without even trying. All they had to do was act normal and stop clowning around.
Here in Kuou, boys are in such short supply that the girls are practically fighting secret wars over them. Schemes are hatched, dirty tricks are pulled, alliances are formed. I saw a gaggle of girls trying to invite a cute guy to a café. Nothing serious, of course—no orgy, whatever the Pervert Trio might imagine. Just kids playing at romance.
I finally brewed the pill I needed for a cultivation breakthrough, swallowed it, and successfully advanced. It took ages and a lot of work—the advancement itself, gathering the ingredients, and brewing the pill. The ingredients had to go through dozens of rounds of processing. I had to extract the right energies and components, refine them into a concentrate, infuse the whole lot with qi, and then process it all over again.
The starter pill is my pride and joy. I didn't name it the Jade Pill for nothing. Its full recipe could go straight into my Legacy right now, because this booster can be made almost anywhere.
Decades of work led me to what I call Lesser Elemental Alchemy. Break an ingredient down into its elements, then recombine them to produce the property you need. Amplify it, or tone it down. Step by step, you "build" the ingredients you need, then use them to make whatever concoction you're after.
For example, a rat-lion's liver and chamomile that's spent a hundred days soaking up the Sun's power can be turned into a substitute for the salamander-eye extract in the original recipe. A weaker substitute, sure, but then you infuse it with qi, concentrate it…
Shame Lesser Alchemy can't handle truly powerful ingredients. They're too complex—almost beyond comprehension, I'd say. I doubt I'll get anywhere with Greater Alchemy until I reach a higher level of cultivation. And I can't even imagine where I'd find ingredients for more advanced drugs. Everything available here is too weak, and Water Dragon Bile is a pipe dream.
I'll probably have to stick to mild support remedies and forget about serious pills. A bit hardcore, but what can you do? The downside is all the extra time I'll have to spend cultivating. The upside is that there won't be any sudden changes to my body for people to notice, or any pill side effects.
Today's my first day back at school after my "illness." Some of the symptoms were close enough to a bad case of the flu to fool my parents. Trouble was, I spent almost the entire week in the bathroom. Luckily, my room had its own—I'd talked Dad into that when we renovated. My body was purging impurities and improving itself, and the stuff that came out with my sweat… Brr. Gross. That's the part I hate most. So I spent the week meditating in the shower stall, coming out only now and then to show Mom and Dad I was all right.
My reputation as a sensible guy who didn't do stupid things helped a lot. In all the years I'd lived with my parents, I'd never broken their rules, never been caught lying to them, and never done anything reckless. I'd always been serious and responsible. Besides, I'd been preparing to take the miracle pill, so I'd staged a few similar "illnesses" before.
Mom and Dad were worried, but they believed me when I said I didn't need to be hospitalized. It helped that I looked better every day and acted livelier around them. In the end, all it took was a visit to the doctor, a note for school, and treatment at home.
Getting stronger feels good. I drew a deep breath, savoring the energy coursing through my body and the flex of muscles capable of things an ordinary person would dismiss as fantasy. My whole body thrummed with power, and I could finally use some of the more advanced techniques. It's hard to explain to anyone who's never lived in a cultivation world. No matter how far you've come, there's always further to go. That's us.
Don't get me wrong: for all my grumbling about practitioners, I like those worlds. I like the constant progress, I like being strong, and I want to be the strongest. Because the strongest make the rules. And who knows better than anyone what the world needs? That's right—me. It's always been that way, and it always will be. Whoever that "I" happens to be, they always know better than those stupid, narrow-minded "others"—even if they've spent their whole life sitting on their ass and farting into the couch cushions.
I'd build paradise on Earth. First, though, I'd have to level up properly, make the rounds of the celestials' abodes, and, in the grand tradition of the Great Enlightened Ones, beat the shit out of every last one of them while yelling, "You motherfucking piece of trash, get over here…"
Ambitious? Hungry for glory? No doubt about it. But endless reincarnations give me a real shot at it. I can't take my pills, my progress, my disciples, or my artifacts into the next life, but all my experience carries over. That gives me an enormous advantage over the average practitioner: I already know what to do and how to do it. Centuries of work, gathering knowledge, deciphering the treatises of the Great Ancients…
Ooooh… That last one's a whole story in itself. Every practitioner who lives long enough starts thinking about standardization: shared terminology, a common foundation. There's a problem, though. Cultivators have a hard time dealing with their equals. Weaker people? No trouble at all. They become your entourage—the ones who do everything you don't want to waste your time on. Hunting down alchemical ingredients, rare ores, and artifacts. Cooking, cleaning, keeping you comfortable.
The fattest toad surrounds himself with little frogs who stroke his ego and take care of his every need. They'll lap up every word you say, because you are the Wisest One, Whose Visage Shines with Divine Wisdom and Whose Kick Up the Ass Sends You Soaring into the Heavens. That last part is often literal.
But someone more or less your equal… First you have to kick their ass. Or get yours kicked. Settle who gets to be the senior research fellow, so to speak. Practitioners can get together, pool their knowledge, and write a treatise… Trouble is, nobody outside the group will understand their terms or descriptions. Another group could write a treatise on exactly the same thing in completely different words.
And that's a pain in the ass! I've read thousands of texts, and I had to figure out each treatise on its own terms, then fit it into my own framework. After heroic feats of scholarship like that, I'd often go looking for a fight. As experience has shown, asserting dominance over assorted trash does wonders for one's peace of mind.
The trick is not to get carried away. Just beat them up without killing them, then look suitably wise as you explain to the stunned cultivators that it was a lesson. You only did it because you care about them, really. They're promising young men and women—they just seem to be advancing a little too slowly.
And that's usually all it takes. The entire battered sect starts strutting around with their broken noses in the air and cultivating like mad. The Great Practitioner is watching them, after all! How else could they see it? He beat the shit out of every last one of them, so obviously he's Great! And he did it because he thinks they're talented. It was a lesson!
That's the cultivator mindset for you. Didn't kill them? Didn't rob them? Just gave them a thrashing? Then he must want what's best for them: a dose of fatherly encouragement and some guidance thrown in for good measure!
The funny thing is, those little stress-relief sessions often brought out genuine talent in the sects I'd beaten up. Sometimes people even tracked me down to thank me!!! Once, a young man who'd belonged to one of those sects showed up… And the motherfucking bastard had broken through to heights I'd dreamed of reaching for dozens of lives! Lucky piece of trash!
I nearly broke my face trying to smile at him like some kindly old sensei, proud of the student who'd surpassed him.
The worst part was, the guy really was absurdly lucky! A textbook xianxia protagonist: he'd shown up with a whole harem and even managed to absorb a couple of Ancient Practitioners' Legacies on his travels! His entire cultivation journey came down to dumb luck and sheer determination.
When that lucky bastard finally disappeared into the mist with his battalion of women, after thanking me one minute and bragging to my face the next, I was so butthurt I could've spat blood. Actually, I did. Twice.
That last memory got me riled up, so I kept my eyes down as I headed to the staff room. I was keeping my spiritual pressure in check, of course, but I might still hit someone with my killing intent just by looking at them. I'd have to work on controlling that.
The last thing I needed was students—girls and boys alike—pissing themselves in fear. And a reputation as the guy with the death stare… not exactly ideal. I couldn't see a single upside to it.
"Good morning, Shijimu-san!" I bowed to my homeroom teacher as we crossed paths on my way to the staff room. Good timing.
"Ah, Chiba-kun! Good morning!" She smiled, genuinely pleased to see me. "All better? How are you feeling? You look great!"
"Thank you, Sensei. I'm doing fine." I handed her the doctor's note. "Here's my note from the hospital."
"Good." She was still smiling as she took the signed and stamped paper. Teachers liked me. I showed them respect, worked hard, got good grades, and behaved myself. "Chiba-kun, have you changed your mind about joining a club?"
Clubs. I winced inwardly. At Kuou, they aren't mandatory, but they're encouraged. Students are supposed to do something besides study—find a shared interest that benefits society, brings them together, helps them grow. I don't need any of that.
Too bad my homeroom teacher won't stop trying to shoehorn Chiba Taro—a good kid, but a very withdrawn one—into some club or other.
"I'm sorry, Shijimu-san, but I still don't have the time." I shook my head gently. "You know I take wushu and kendo classes."
"What about yoga?" she asked, surprised.
"I had to give it up because I didn't have enough time," I said, barely stretching the truth. Yoga had only ever been a convenient explanation for why I meditated so much. The classes had served their purpose. As far as everyone else knew, I was focusing on school and martial arts training while continuing yoga on my own. After eight years of classes, that was easy enough to believe.
"Goto-sama has named me his senior student, so kendo takes up a lot more of my time now."
"That's…" My teacher looked a little stunned. Master Goto was famous throughout Japan. Being named his senior student meant training with him personally, and it was a mark of serious skill.
"Congratulations, Chiba-kun! That's quite an achievement! But the school kendo club…"
"I'm sorry, Sensei." I gave a small bow of apology for interrupting her. "I know this will sound rude, but I don't mean to offend anyone. Unfortunately, the school club has nothing to offer me. There's no one there who could push me to improve. Please forgive me, Shijimu-san."
Another bow. I had no desire to sour things with my homeroom teacher. She was good at her job and took her responsibilities to her students seriously. Snapping at her for that would be a shitty thing to do.
But joining the school kendo club meant competing. I had no intention of letting anyone win—I couldn't stomach that—so I'd kick everyone's ass. I wouldn't even need qi or techniques. Plain old skill would be enough. And I'd do it again, match after match. Winning would bring fame, and I still hadn't decided whether I wanted that or whether it would actually hurt me.
The thing is, a practitioner who's advanced even a single stage can easily live to be a hundred and fifty. I've gone much further than that. Right now, my lifespan tops out at around five hundred years. But that's right now. I'm not going to stand still, and even here on Earth, a century of steady cultivation could push that to a thousand without too much trouble. In a cultivation world, I could use what I know to extend that millennium many times over.
The problem is, I've never managed to live out my full lifespan. There's always someone burning to yell, "You motherfucking piece of trash, get over here!" and beat me into a state incompatible with life.
Anyway. Five ordinary human lifetimes is a bit much. So what will I have to do? Right—switch identities before people start wondering why old Chiba-san still hasn't kicked the bucket! Making myself look old won't be hard, but I'll still have to "die." That'll be much easier if I keep a low profile.
An old man remembered only by his children and grandchildren "drowns" while swimming in the ocean. On the other side of Japan, a young man washes ashore who "doesn't remember a thing." The important part is changing my fingerprints and iris patterns. My face is another matter: I can make it look older or younger easily enough, but I can't actually change my features yet. Which is why I'd rather stay out of the spotlight.
I was a little disappointed to learn just how famous Goto-san was. But Dad had worked hard to get me into his dojo, and the master himself was the real deal. I'd never been especially drawn to sword fighting—I preferred the guandao—but if you want to win, you need to know how your opponent fights. Besides, Japanese fighting styles might catch my enemies off guard if I ever ended up in a cultivation world again.
"That's a shame. A real shame," she sighed.
"I'm sorry." I gave her a rueful smile. "May I go, Shijimu-san?"
"Yes, of course. Do your best in class, Chiba-kun!" She smiled and winked, as if there had ever been any doubt about my grades.
"I will, Sensei. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Chiba-kun."
Well, that went well, I thought as I headed to class. An important stage of my development was behind me without a hitch. Now I needed to focus on cultivation and my studies. I'd need excellent grades to get into a prestigious university someday.
Cultivation worlds often tell physics and common sense to fuck right off, sure, but passing up a chance to broaden my horizons would be stupid. What I learned here on Earth might even help me reach enlightenment someday.
Lost in thought, I gave the student council president and her vice president a slight bow as I passed them. The president, Shitori Sona-san, struck me as quite attractive—both in looks and in character. Calm, composed, serious. She was slender, her hair cut into a neat bob. Her glasses suited her ridiculously well, framing a sharp, intelligent gaze. She was about five foot seven—short by my standards, given what cultivation does for the body—and carried herself with the poise of someone who'd been well brought up.
Most importantly, she was damn good at her job. Teachers and students alike respected her, and she handled her duties with care and skill. I'd never heard of her making a single mistake—and I knew how to listen.
She was exactly my type. A wife—the mother of my heirs, the person closest to me—was someone I needed to respect as well as love. It's hard to respect someone who's just a pretty little flower. A woman with a mind of her own, who knows her business and gets results? Much easier.
Besides, a busy wife lets a man keep what's left of his nerves. Give his better half too much free time, and she'll make an art form of destroying the rest—purely for the love of it.
Maybe I should take a closer look at Shitori-san after graduation, with matrimony in mind.
I glanced back for another appreciative look at her figure… and found both girls studying me intently. Huh. To what did I owe the honor? The school's celebrities had never paid me any attention before. I hadn't said any of that out loud, had I? No. Definitely not. So what was this about?
I gave them a friendly smile and a nod, then kept walking, trying to work out why they were staring.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Girls haven't caused me any trouble, either. I'm not exactly sociable: I don't make friends, I barely talk, and I've earned a reputation as a gloomy loner. Suits me just fine. I did have to turn down a couple of girls, though. Apparently even I'm somebody's type, but I'm not looking for a relationship right now.
Incidentally, after I very politely turned down two girls, the Pervert Trio started giving me odd, pitying looks. They're fun to watch. Their antics give me plenty of laughs, frequent bouts of secondhand embarrassment, and the occasional involuntary combo of the Palm-to-Face Technique. They wanted girlfriends so badly and talked about boobs so often that they scared girls away without even trying. All they had to do was act normal and stop clowning around.
Here in Kuou, boys are in such short supply that the girls are practically fighting secret wars over them. Schemes are hatched, dirty tricks are pulled, alliances are formed. I saw a gaggle of girls trying to invite a cute guy to a café. Nothing serious, of course—no orgy, whatever the Pervert Trio might imagine. Just kids playing at romance.
I finally brewed the pill I needed for a cultivation breakthrough, swallowed it, and successfully advanced. It took ages and a lot of work—the advancement itself, gathering the ingredients, and brewing the pill. The ingredients had to go through dozens of rounds of processing. I had to extract the right energies and components, refine them into a concentrate, infuse the whole lot with qi, and then process it all over again.
The starter pill is my pride and joy. I didn't name it the Jade Pill for nothing. Its full recipe could go straight into my Legacy right now, because this booster can be made almost anywhere.
Decades of work led me to what I call Lesser Elemental Alchemy. Break an ingredient down into its elements, then recombine them to produce the property you need. Amplify it, or tone it down. Step by step, you "build" the ingredients you need, then use them to make whatever concoction you're after.
For example, a rat-lion's liver and chamomile that's spent a hundred days soaking up the Sun's power can be turned into a substitute for the salamander-eye extract in the original recipe. A weaker substitute, sure, but then you infuse it with qi, concentrate it…
Shame Lesser Alchemy can't handle truly powerful ingredients. They're too complex—almost beyond comprehension, I'd say. I doubt I'll get anywhere with Greater Alchemy until I reach a higher level of cultivation. And I can't even imagine where I'd find ingredients for more advanced drugs. Everything available here is too weak, and Water Dragon Bile is a pipe dream.
I'll probably have to stick to mild support remedies and forget about serious pills. A bit hardcore, but what can you do? The downside is all the extra time I'll have to spend cultivating. The upside is that there won't be any sudden changes to my body for people to notice, or any pill side effects.
Today's my first day back at school after my "illness." Some of the symptoms were close enough to a bad case of the flu to fool my parents. Trouble was, I spent almost the entire week in the bathroom. Luckily, my room had its own—I'd talked Dad into that when we renovated. My body was purging impurities and improving itself, and the stuff that came out with my sweat… Brr. Gross. That's the part I hate most. So I spent the week meditating in the shower stall, coming out only now and then to show Mom and Dad I was all right.
My reputation as a sensible guy who didn't do stupid things helped a lot. In all the years I'd lived with my parents, I'd never broken their rules, never been caught lying to them, and never done anything reckless. I'd always been serious and responsible. Besides, I'd been preparing to take the miracle pill, so I'd staged a few similar "illnesses" before.
Mom and Dad were worried, but they believed me when I said I didn't need to be hospitalized. It helped that I looked better every day and acted livelier around them. In the end, all it took was a visit to the doctor, a note for school, and treatment at home.
Getting stronger feels good. I drew a deep breath, savoring the energy coursing through my body and the flex of muscles capable of things an ordinary person would dismiss as fantasy. My whole body thrummed with power, and I could finally use some of the more advanced techniques. It's hard to explain to anyone who's never lived in a cultivation world. No matter how far you've come, there's always further to go. That's us.
Don't get me wrong: for all my grumbling about practitioners, I like those worlds. I like the constant progress, I like being strong, and I want to be the strongest. Because the strongest make the rules. And who knows better than anyone what the world needs? That's right—me. It's always been that way, and it always will be. Whoever that "I" happens to be, they always know better than those stupid, narrow-minded "others"—even if they've spent their whole life sitting on their ass and farting into the couch cushions.
I'd build paradise on Earth. First, though, I'd have to level up properly, make the rounds of the celestials' abodes, and, in the grand tradition of the Great Enlightened Ones, beat the shit out of every last one of them while yelling, "You motherfucking piece of trash, get over here…"
Ambitious? Hungry for glory? No doubt about it. But endless reincarnations give me a real shot at it. I can't take my pills, my progress, my disciples, or my artifacts into the next life, but all my experience carries over. That gives me an enormous advantage over the average practitioner: I already know what to do and how to do it. Centuries of work, gathering knowledge, deciphering the treatises of the Great Ancients…
Ooooh… That last one's a whole story in itself. Every practitioner who lives long enough starts thinking about standardization: shared terminology, a common foundation. There's a problem, though. Cultivators have a hard time dealing with their equals. Weaker people? No trouble at all. They become your entourage—the ones who do everything you don't want to waste your time on. Hunting down alchemical ingredients, rare ores, and artifacts. Cooking, cleaning, keeping you comfortable.
The fattest toad surrounds himself with little frogs who stroke his ego and take care of his every need. They'll lap up every word you say, because you are the Wisest One, Whose Visage Shines with Divine Wisdom and Whose Kick Up the Ass Sends You Soaring into the Heavens. That last part is often literal.
But someone more or less your equal… First you have to kick their ass. Or get yours kicked. Settle who gets to be the senior research fellow, so to speak. Practitioners can get together, pool their knowledge, and write a treatise… Trouble is, nobody outside the group will understand their terms or descriptions. Another group could write a treatise on exactly the same thing in completely different words.
And that's a pain in the ass! I've read thousands of texts, and I had to figure out each treatise on its own terms, then fit it into my own framework. After heroic feats of scholarship like that, I'd often go looking for a fight. As experience has shown, asserting dominance over assorted trash does wonders for one's peace of mind.
The trick is not to get carried away. Just beat them up without killing them, then look suitably wise as you explain to the stunned cultivators that it was a lesson. You only did it because you care about them, really. They're promising young men and women—they just seem to be advancing a little too slowly.
And that's usually all it takes. The entire battered sect starts strutting around with their broken noses in the air and cultivating like mad. The Great Practitioner is watching them, after all! How else could they see it? He beat the shit out of every last one of them, so obviously he's Great! And he did it because he thinks they're talented. It was a lesson!
That's the cultivator mindset for you. Didn't kill them? Didn't rob them? Just gave them a thrashing? Then he must want what's best for them: a dose of fatherly encouragement and some guidance thrown in for good measure!
The funny thing is, those little stress-relief sessions often brought out genuine talent in the sects I'd beaten up. Sometimes people even tracked me down to thank me!!! Once, a young man who'd belonged to one of those sects showed up… And the motherfucking bastard had broken through to heights I'd dreamed of reaching for dozens of lives! Lucky piece of trash!
I nearly broke my face trying to smile at him like some kindly old sensei, proud of the student who'd surpassed him.
The worst part was, the guy really was absurdly lucky! A textbook xianxia protagonist: he'd shown up with a whole harem and even managed to absorb a couple of Ancient Practitioners' Legacies on his travels! His entire cultivation journey came down to dumb luck and sheer determination.
When that lucky bastard finally disappeared into the mist with his battalion of women, after thanking me one minute and bragging to my face the next, I was so butthurt I could've spat blood. Actually, I did. Twice.
That last memory got me riled up, so I kept my eyes down as I headed to the staff room. I was keeping my spiritual pressure in check, of course, but I might still hit someone with my killing intent just by looking at them. I'd have to work on controlling that.
The last thing I needed was students—girls and boys alike—pissing themselves in fear. And a reputation as the guy with the death stare… not exactly ideal. I couldn't see a single upside to it.
"Good morning, Shijimu-san!" I bowed to my homeroom teacher as we crossed paths on my way to the staff room. Good timing.
"Ah, Chiba-kun! Good morning!" She smiled, genuinely pleased to see me. "All better? How are you feeling? You look great!"
"Thank you, Sensei. I'm doing fine." I handed her the doctor's note. "Here's my note from the hospital."
"Good." She was still smiling as she took the signed and stamped paper. Teachers liked me. I showed them respect, worked hard, got good grades, and behaved myself. "Chiba-kun, have you changed your mind about joining a club?"
Clubs. I winced inwardly. At Kuou, they aren't mandatory, but they're encouraged. Students are supposed to do something besides study—find a shared interest that benefits society, brings them together, helps them grow. I don't need any of that.
Too bad my homeroom teacher won't stop trying to shoehorn Chiba Taro—a good kid, but a very withdrawn one—into some club or other.
"I'm sorry, Shijimu-san, but I still don't have the time." I shook my head gently. "You know I take wushu and kendo classes."
"What about yoga?" she asked, surprised.
"I had to give it up because I didn't have enough time," I said, barely stretching the truth. Yoga had only ever been a convenient explanation for why I meditated so much. The classes had served their purpose. As far as everyone else knew, I was focusing on school and martial arts training while continuing yoga on my own. After eight years of classes, that was easy enough to believe.
"Goto-sama has named me his senior student, so kendo takes up a lot more of my time now."
"That's…" My teacher looked a little stunned. Master Goto was famous throughout Japan. Being named his senior student meant training with him personally, and it was a mark of serious skill.
"Congratulations, Chiba-kun! That's quite an achievement! But the school kendo club…"
"I'm sorry, Sensei." I gave a small bow of apology for interrupting her. "I know this will sound rude, but I don't mean to offend anyone. Unfortunately, the school club has nothing to offer me. There's no one there who could push me to improve. Please forgive me, Shijimu-san."
Another bow. I had no desire to sour things with my homeroom teacher. She was good at her job and took her responsibilities to her students seriously. Snapping at her for that would be a shitty thing to do.
But joining the school kendo club meant competing. I had no intention of letting anyone win—I couldn't stomach that—so I'd kick everyone's ass. I wouldn't even need qi or techniques. Plain old skill would be enough. And I'd do it again, match after match. Winning would bring fame, and I still hadn't decided whether I wanted that or whether it would actually hurt me.
The thing is, a practitioner who's advanced even a single stage can easily live to be a hundred and fifty. I've gone much further than that. Right now, my lifespan tops out at around five hundred years. But that's right now. I'm not going to stand still, and even here on Earth, a century of steady cultivation could push that to a thousand without too much trouble. In a cultivation world, I could use what I know to extend that millennium many times over.
The problem is, I've never managed to live out my full lifespan. There's always someone burning to yell, "You motherfucking piece of trash, get over here!" and beat me into a state incompatible with life.
Anyway. Five ordinary human lifetimes is a bit much. So what will I have to do? Right—switch identities before people start wondering why old Chiba-san still hasn't kicked the bucket! Making myself look old won't be hard, but I'll still have to "die." That'll be much easier if I keep a low profile.
An old man remembered only by his children and grandchildren "drowns" while swimming in the ocean. On the other side of Japan, a young man washes ashore who "doesn't remember a thing." The important part is changing my fingerprints and iris patterns. My face is another matter: I can make it look older or younger easily enough, but I can't actually change my features yet. Which is why I'd rather stay out of the spotlight.
I was a little disappointed to learn just how famous Goto-san was. But Dad had worked hard to get me into his dojo, and the master himself was the real deal. I'd never been especially drawn to sword fighting—I preferred the guandao—but if you want to win, you need to know how your opponent fights. Besides, Japanese fighting styles might catch my enemies off guard if I ever ended up in a cultivation world again.
"That's a shame. A real shame," she sighed.
"I'm sorry." I gave her a rueful smile. "May I go, Shijimu-san?"
"Yes, of course. Do your best in class, Chiba-kun!" She smiled and winked, as if there had ever been any doubt about my grades.
"I will, Sensei. Goodbye."
"Goodbye, Chiba-kun."
Well, that went well, I thought as I headed to class. An important stage of my development was behind me without a hitch. Now I needed to focus on cultivation and my studies. I'd need excellent grades to get into a prestigious university someday.
Cultivation worlds often tell physics and common sense to fuck right off, sure, but passing up a chance to broaden my horizons would be stupid. What I learned here on Earth might even help me reach enlightenment someday.
Lost in thought, I gave the student council president and her vice president a slight bow as I passed them. The president, Shitori Sona-san, struck me as quite attractive—both in looks and in character. Calm, composed, serious. She was slender, her hair cut into a neat bob. Her glasses suited her ridiculously well, framing a sharp, intelligent gaze. She was about five foot seven—short by my standards, given what cultivation does for the body—and carried herself with the poise of someone who'd been well brought up.
Most importantly, she was damn good at her job. Teachers and students alike respected her, and she handled her duties with care and skill. I'd never heard of her making a single mistake—and I knew how to listen.
She was exactly my type. A wife—the mother of my heirs, the person closest to me—was someone I needed to respect as well as love. It's hard to respect someone who's just a pretty little flower. A woman with a mind of her own, who knows her business and gets results? Much easier.
Besides, a busy wife lets a man keep what's left of his nerves. Give his better half too much free time, and she'll make an art form of destroying the rest—purely for the love of it.
Maybe I should take a closer look at Shitori-san after graduation, with matrimony in mind.
I glanced back for another appreciative look at her figure… and found both girls studying me intently. Huh. To what did I owe the honor? The school's celebrities had never paid me any attention before. I hadn't said any of that out loud, had I? No. Definitely not. So what was this about?
I gave them a friendly smile and a nod, then kept walking, trying to work out why they were staring.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Chapter 3
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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"Akeno? Did it work?" The breathtakingly beautiful redhead looked up expectantly as her friend entered the clubroom.
"Yes." Akeno smiled warmly, settled onto the sofa opposite her, and drew the freshly poured cup of tea toward herself.
Every student at Kuou Academy knew those two girls. They held the top two spots in the school's unofficial beauty rankings: Rias Gremory, president of the Occult Research Club, and her best friend and vice president, Akeno Himejima. Both were gorgeous, mysterious, and the brightest stars in Kuou's social universe.
"Any trouble?"
"None at all." Akeno shook her head, her violet eyes warm as she looked at Rias. "Sitri-san congratulated House Gremory on gaining a new servant—Issei Hyoudou. She didn't seem upset about it, either. House Sitri let us know they're interested in Chiba Taro and asked us not to interfere."
"Chiba?" Rias looked at her friend in surprise. "That gloomy guy from Issei's class? But he's an ordinary human! Strong, healthy, with plenty of life force, sure, but there's nothing else to him. Sona would spend one of her pieces on a useless human? I don't buy it!"
The redhead leaned back against the sofa cushions and took a thoughtful sip of tea. Sona Sitri was many things, but a fool wasn't one of them. Rias's childhood friend was brilliant. Her sharp mind was one reason Rias respected her so deeply; the others were her honesty, her serious nature, and her firm convictions.
Their rivalry over Evil Pieces had cooled their friendship a little, but there was no bad blood between them. A few schemes, a bit of competition, occasional tension, even hurt feelings—none of it was serious. That was just life among high-class devils. Compared with the games the adults played, theirs stayed well within the bounds of friendship and respect.
"Maybe there's something we don't know?" Akeno suggested. She agreed with Rias: Evil Pieces were far too valuable to waste on a human who was strong but otherwise unremarkable.
"Almost certainly." The club president tossed her thick red hair. "It's too late to play this differently now, but… I'm curious. Aren't you? What do we actually know about him? Plenty of life force—that's good. Straight-A student, top of his class—not bad. The teachers love him, but he hasn't joined any clubs. Quiet, unsociable, serious, responsible. Keeps to himself, makes no effort to get close to anyone. No friends at school. Akeno?"
"You know more about him than I do," Akeno said with a snort. "But that personality reminds me of someone. How about you?"
"Of course it does. He's Sona turned up to eleven." Rias smiled back. "Maybe she just wants to recruit him for the student council and doesn't want us making a play for him? He's not in any clubs, so he has time for council work. Serious, calm, responsible—Sona values all of that."
"That sounds plausible," Akeno said with a nod. "If she wants a capable, hardworking assistant for the future—someone to handle the books, for example—then spending a Pawn on him would be worth it. Besides, he knows martial arts, so he wouldn't be complete dead weight."
"I agree. Raw power matters less in a role like that. But there could be another angle. Maybe it has something to do with his life outside the academy? Should we ask Koneko to find out more about him?"
"Sitri-san might take that the wrong way," Akeno said, shaking her head.
"We'd only be looking into him!" Rias protested. "Nobody's going to try to recruit Chiba! The Gremorys keep their word! We'd just… satisfy our curiosity!"
We are what we eat. To most people, that just means our bodies are made of things we've eaten. But think about it for a moment, and the saying goes deeper.
We're ravenous monsters. We feed on everything and build ourselves out of it all. The sounds our ears devour. The images our eyes drink in. The sensations our skin absorbs. And, of course, food, water, and air. Those too.
All of it together makes us who we are. Food builds the body; the information we take in shapes the personality.
All of that matters to an ordinary mortal. To a practitioner, it matters even more. Food is crucial in the early stages of cultivation. After all, we are what we eat, and a cultivator trying to perfect himself needs to be made of "clean" ingredients.
Our bodies shouldn't have to waste energy purging junk, so we don't stuff ourselves with crap in the first place. Diet matters like hell at the start of the path, and it stays important for a long time. It saves the body's resources, freeing up another percent or two of its potential for something useful even at fairly advanced stages of cultivation.
Only when a practitioner breaks through to levels approaching those of mythical beings can they stop caring what they shovel into the body's furnace. By then, the physical side of things takes a back seat.
But there's a spiritual side, too. That intangible something fed by everything our senses consume. And today, I've seen the light. I'm seeing it right now, sitting on the roof where I always eat lunch and staring at the very healthy bento I made for myself.
I'm an experienced practitioner, and I knew it was my own fault I hadn't broken through. But knowing something and truly understanding it are two different things. I'd… grown set in my ways. Living the same life hundreds of times, give or take a few details, had left my very sense of self stuck in a rut. My own version of Groundhog Day: get my memories back; start cultivating; find a suitable sect; work my way up through it; become the fattest toad in the sect, then the city, the province, the country… and hit a wall. I'd gotten used to it. My overall progress had all but stopped. With each rebirth, if I advanced at all, it was by a few laughable millimeters compared with the hundreds of thousands of kilometers I'd already covered.
It went something like this: you tear down a straight, familiar highway in a sports car, race through every mile you know, and then smash the car flat against a cliff that came out of God knows where. Again and again, with the stubbornness of… the stubbornness of an ancient practitioner. Yeah. The stubbornness of an old man who'd boxed himself in with rules and limits. With DISCIPLINE.
Cultivation, after all, is about disciplining both body and mind. I'd just forgotten that you can have too much of a good thing. And that lucky bastard I'd been thinking about earlier was one big fat hint.
He went off into the unknown, picking raspberries in the thickets. I stuck to the well-worn path, where every bush along the way had already been picked clean. And the kid was mortal. Dead meant dead for him—unlike me!
So who's the idiot now? The guy who risked everything on his one and only chance and won, or me? Me, betting one measly chip at a time and forever breaking even—when I've got a fucking save-and-load mechanic?! Compared to him, I'm a moron!
Instead of trying new things, thinking them through, and hunting for scraps of the Great Meaning, I mapped out the "optimal route," ran it again and again, and got roughly the same result every time. I stopped feeding my spiritual body!!! I starved it!!! Old fool…
And no, I'm not about to go looking for trouble just for the hell of it! It isn't about risking my life—plenty of Ancient Practitioners reached great heights without ever fighting a Great Battle. What I need is something new, and I've had precious little of that. Something genuinely new! New perspectives, new ideas, new experiences, new feelings!
And this world is exactly what I need. Vast stores of information, a different way of life, new ways to grow. Once again, I'm convinced I hit the jackpot with this rebirth.
"And things are about to get even more interesting, aren't they?" I asked a piece of meat from my bento. Before it could answer, it went straight into my maw.
The array for the Nine Eyes of the Sage technique was almost ready. I'd built and anchored its most basic part in my head before I even took the advancement pill. Now that I could manipulate qi with greater precision and my dantian had grown more powerful, I'd finished the work. Soon the world would take on new colors, and all those limitations would be a thing of the past.
The Nine Eyes of the Sage is an immensely powerful, fiendishly complex technique built around a monstrous array. It's demanding as hell. That's precisely why I've been cultivating using only the energy my dantian produces. The martial art I use for that is called "The Might of the Man Who Reached the Stars."
Grandiose name aside… Hm. Then again, in cultivation worlds, you can't judge a technique or a cultivation path by its name. A strike that's only good for squashing a mosquito could be called "The Flaming Dragon of Destruction Swooping Down from the Seventh Heaven."
Yeah, we cultivators have POMP down to a science! I wouldn't be surprised if Warhammer's God-Emperor was actually a Great Practitioner rather than a shaman… Hm. Right, I'm getting sidetracked!
Anyway, the Might of Man is a cultivation path that draws solely on the cultivator's own qi. The only alchemy it allows is the kind that helps produce more of that qi or works on the body itself. Compared with most other paths, it's fairly weak. Follow one of those, and you can burn cities or call down torrents of lightning long before reaching the highest stages.
But it has one enormous advantage: the Nine Eyes of the Sage. It's the best technique I know, letting a cultivator see much, much more. It scales automatically with your cultivation level, only has to be built once, and can be switched on or off at will.
Depending on how far they've advanced, a practitioner who activates the Nine Eyes might gain nothing more than vision sharper than an eagle's—or begin to perceive the world in terms of energy.
As the name suggests, there are nine… hm. Nine modes: keen sight; night vision; qi sight; energy sight, including heat and electricity; unveiling, which lets you see through disguises and illusions; a demon's gaze; a god's gaze… And that's it. I don't know the rest. There are two more modes, but the treatise where I found the array said nothing about them. In my past lives, my cultivation always stalled just as the fifth mode became available.
But there's one catch, and it often puts the technique out of reach of ordinary practitioners. A cultivator's dantian mustn't be attuned to any foreign qi. Only their own human qi will do. Otherwise, when you build the array—which, mind you, goes inside your skull… your brain dies.
Maybe some other kinds of energy wouldn't have that effect. But the practitioner who invented the technique understandably chose not to experiment on himself, and he never assembled a focus group of fellow cultivators. So most practitioners who could build the Nine Eyes of the Sage array choose not to. Those determined to use it spend a very long time cultivating on nothing but their own inner reserves.
In my case, though, those drawbacks aren't nearly as serious. Thanks to the advancement pill, I finished the array and activated the technique two days after my "illness." The Nine Eyes are still coming fully online, linking up with the right parts of my brain. I figure I'll have access to three modes by this evening, and I'll no longer need to keep my dantian from bonding with other kinds of qi.
"Just in time," I whispered, setting aside the empty bento box and settling into a meditation posture. There was still plenty of time before lunch break ended, so I could drive qi through my meridians and do some thinking.
Something weird was going on at Kuou. There was no other way to put it. Ever since I'd run into the student council president and her vice president, every member of the council had been looking at me… strangely.
Before, I'd only ever caught the odd glance, fleeting and almost indifferent. Now there was curiosity in their eyes. Interest. Expectation. I sensed no ill intent, but somehow I'd caught their attention. What had I done to earn it?
As far as I could tell, I hadn't done anything extraordinary. No crazy stunts, nothing to make me stand out. That left two possibilities.
The first was my fake illness. But according to the paperwork, it was real. Besides, why would the student council give a damn? Students got sick. It happened.
The second was my breakthrough. My dantian had reached a whole new level, and I'd gone from an almost ordinary person—albeit an exceptionally healthy and gifted one—to something more than mortal. To other practitioners, I must have stood out among ordinary people like a floodlight among candles.
And I couldn't hide it yet!!! My body and meridians were still rebuilding themselves. Right now, I couldn't suppress my presence for long without damaging my progress. I could end up crippled, and fixing the damage would take years.
It didn't help that my passive senses as a cultivator were only just coming online. I could sense things up close, but a meter or two was my limit. It would take another three or four weeks for everything to settle down, and somehow, someone had already noticed me.
That put me on edge.
Then there was the weirdness brewing right in my own class. Its name was Issei Hyoudou.
Yesterday, I'd caught a glimpse of him with a new girlfriend. With my ridiculously sharp hearing, I'd even heard him bragging about it to the other two members of the Perverted Trio. I was happy for the guy. At last he had a shot at fondling the boobs he'd been dreaming about. The girl was gorgeous, too. Had to be a pervert herself to date him, but gorgeous all the same.
And today…
Nobody remembered a girl named Yuuma Amano. Nobody except Issei and me. That went beyond unnerving. It was a little frightening.
Mind manipulation was nasty shit. Practitioners who dabbled in it tended to get their asses kicked often, hard, and without anyone bothering to be gentle.
Which left me with a few questions. Had they left my mind alone because they assumed I hadn't seen or heard anything? I'd been some distance away; only my cultivation level had let me notice her at all. And why did Issei still remember her?
Besides, Issei himself felt different now. I nearly killed him when he walked past me. For a moment, I took him for a demonic practitioner in disguise. Then I "listened" more closely to the flavor of his qi and relaxed.
There was a hint of something dark about him, but none of the foulness of demonic qi. You couldn't mistake that stuff for anything else. Stale vomit, pus, and a rotting corpse mixed together—that was about the closest I could come to describing the stench my senses picked up from demonic practitioners.
But Issei had definitely gotten stronger. I even had the feeling that someone who might give me a real fight one day had just walked past.
Interesting. Very interesting. Interesting enough that I decided to blow off my plans for the day and follow him after school. I wanted to know what the hell was going on—and what had made him stronger. No cultivator would pass up a free power-up.
So, Issei Hyoudou, today you're getting yourself a bona fide stalker. Sorry, though. It won't be the cute girl you were loudly fantasizing about with your friends a couple of weeks ago.
What goes through your head when you're one step from death? Issei Hyoudou could tell you plenty.
He absolutely did not want to die a second time, especially at the hands of some creepy guy. At least his last dream had a little ecchi in it. This one… Well, dream or not, he didn't want to die again.
Too bad he was going to.
He ran from the frightening man with black wings, but he could feel him closing in…
A string of memories flashed before his eyes. A girl from another school. Yuuma. Beautiful, charming Yuuma, who had asked him out. Their date had been a brief stretch of happiness Issei could hardly believe was real.
She was so cute, so beautiful, so much fun that Hyoudou barely gave his powers of perversion a thought. He simply enjoyed being with her. To his surprise—and delight—he realized he was falling in love with this wonderful girl. She was like a real angel!
Then evening came… and the two of them spent it together in this very park.
And the beautiful dream became a nightmare. Sweet Yuuma changed before his eyes. She looked older, and her unfamiliar school uniform gave way to some outrageously revealing outfit, flashing a spectacular pair of boobs in the process…
Then she killed him. Slaughtered him like a pig.
It hurt like hell, but Hyoudou couldn't tell which was worse: the wound through his chest or his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. One date. A few hours together. And he'd already fallen madly in love with her…
He'd died in that dream. Then he'd woken up in his own bed, alive and unhurt. Only then had Hyoudou realized it must have been a dream. His friends didn't remember his Yuuma. Nobody remembered anything. So he must have dreamed it.
But that didn't put the pieces of his heart back together. The dream had felt so real that Issei was still hurting over what had happened.
But there was something else strange, besides the ridiculously detailed dream in which Issei Hyoudou had fallen in love, been betrayed, and come away with a case of phantom heartache.
First there was Rias-senpai, the most beautiful girl in school. She walked right past Issei, looked at him, and smiled. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled, made his heart skip a beat! That gaze, that smile, that cascade of hair the color of blood…
A memory flashed through his mind. After Yuuma had killed him in that dream, he'd stared at his bloodied hands and thought of Rias. Of her hair, redder than spilled blood, brighter and more tempting than ripe strawberries…
And then Chiba Taro happened to Issei.
All he'd done was walk past his classmate when a wave of bloodlust hit him so hard he would have leapt away—if sheer terror hadn't forced his legs to keep moving. He couldn't even freeze. It lasted only a second, but Hyoudou spent the next ten minutes jumping at every little noise.
Chiba hadn't so much as batted an eye. He'd been his usual unreadable self.
I must have imagined it, Issei decided. Then he started worrying about his sanity. Inexplicable dreams, menacing hallucinations…
After school, Issei went with his friends to check out the latest… uh… additions to their collection of pervy "treasures." And that's when the weirdness really started.
The guys turned off the lights so they could see the TV better. Issei noticed the lights go out, but the room didn't get dark!!! He could still make out everything, even with the curtains drawn and the TV as the only source of light.
Issei left his friends and wandered through the city as dusk fell. To his surprise, he found he could see easily in the dark and hear things from far away.
Before he knew it, Hyoudou had reached the very park where Yuuma had killed him in his dream.
But had it really been a dream?
It was right here, by the small fountain in the middle of the park, that he'd met the creepy man in a cloak with black wings.
First, Hyoudou had felt something strange. The world had turned… odd. For a second, everything seemed to waver in a haze. Then the man appeared, practically radiating menace. It wasn't like the wave of bloodlust he'd felt from Chiba at school, but it was still terrifying.
Issei tried to run. The black-winged man chased him, intent on killing him… and Issei knew he couldn't get away.
He really didn't want to die. Especially at the hands of some creepy guy.
A blur shot out from somewhere near the bushes, cutting his memories short. A gust of wind. A thud and a clang behind him.
"Who the hell are you?!" Hyoudou heard the creepy winged man shout.
Issei turned around and, to his surprise, found a new player on the scene: his classmate, Chiba Taro. Yep, the same guy who'd scared the hell out of him at school!
The gloomy, boring, quiet kid he and his friends had written off as a hopeless loser who was scared of girls looked different now. Issei couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Chiba didn't seem like himself at all.
"Trash," Chiba said, spitting contemptuously as he eyed the creepy man and his glowing weapon. Was it a spear or a sword? Issei couldn't tell.
His classmate's voice sounded different, too. Deep, heavy, and so full of arrogance it was practically overflowing.
"Trash that attacks weak children is unworthy of hearing the Greatness of My Name. Begone, you walking disappointment to your father."
"What?" What little Issei could see of the winged man's face beneath his hat twisted. "Kid. You're not one of those creatures. Not like him." He jerked his chin contemptuously toward Issei, who was so startled he forgot all about running away. "I don't know who you are or how you got past the barrier, but I'll pretend I didn't hear that if you leave right now!"
At that, Chiba… burst out laughing.
Issei caught himself thinking he'd heard that laugh hundreds of times in anime. Scornful, arrogant, meant to humiliate whoever it was aimed at. The laugh of a textbook villain.
"Black Rooster-san, I gave you a chance," Issei's classmate drawled mockingly once he'd finished laughing. The winged man's cheek twitched as Chiba settled into some kind of fighting stance. "Now behold the Might of the Man Who Reached the Stars, trash. Get over here, you motherfucking bastard…"
Then things got unbelievable. With that… insulting excuse for a battle cry, Chiba blurred through the air, closing the distance to the man Issei feared so much in a single second. He reached him and struck.
Only Hyoudou's strange new… abilities let him see the blow land. Then Chiba moved again, appearing behind the man his punch had sent flying. As the winged man hurtled toward him, Chiba met him with another simple punch to the back of the head. The blow stopped him in midair and spun him a full hundred and eighty degrees.
And that wasn't the end…
A flurry of kicks, each a blur of motion, lifted the man farther off the ground. He hung there as if trapped in an antigravity field of pain.
And then…
Issei watched the impossible spectacle in terrified awe. His classmate was pummeling the body suspended in midair. The punches came so fast that Chiba seemed to have dozens of arms, each delivering blow after blow.
As if that weren't enough, a phantom double seemed to sprout from Chiba's lower back. It punched the winged man too, doubling the number of phantom fists.
His classmate had lost himself in the fight, and his unbroken roar echoed across the park…
"ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA…" Chiba bellowed without pause, pounding the creepy man into… a winged cutlet.
This looks more like a beating than a fight, Issei thought, unable to tear his eyes from the surreal spectacle. A microscopic speck of pity for the man being pummeled stirred in him. Then he remembered how frightened he'd been and promptly strangled it.
Hyoudou was so absorbed in the madness before him that even a reddish glow appearing off to one side failed to draw his attention away.
(Issei Hyoudou, the protagonist of the original story.)
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
"Yes." Akeno smiled warmly, settled onto the sofa opposite her, and drew the freshly poured cup of tea toward herself.
Every student at Kuou Academy knew those two girls. They held the top two spots in the school's unofficial beauty rankings: Rias Gremory, president of the Occult Research Club, and her best friend and vice president, Akeno Himejima. Both were gorgeous, mysterious, and the brightest stars in Kuou's social universe.
"Any trouble?"
"None at all." Akeno shook her head, her violet eyes warm as she looked at Rias. "Sitri-san congratulated House Gremory on gaining a new servant—Issei Hyoudou. She didn't seem upset about it, either. House Sitri let us know they're interested in Chiba Taro and asked us not to interfere."
"Chiba?" Rias looked at her friend in surprise. "That gloomy guy from Issei's class? But he's an ordinary human! Strong, healthy, with plenty of life force, sure, but there's nothing else to him. Sona would spend one of her pieces on a useless human? I don't buy it!"
The redhead leaned back against the sofa cushions and took a thoughtful sip of tea. Sona Sitri was many things, but a fool wasn't one of them. Rias's childhood friend was brilliant. Her sharp mind was one reason Rias respected her so deeply; the others were her honesty, her serious nature, and her firm convictions.
Their rivalry over Evil Pieces had cooled their friendship a little, but there was no bad blood between them. A few schemes, a bit of competition, occasional tension, even hurt feelings—none of it was serious. That was just life among high-class devils. Compared with the games the adults played, theirs stayed well within the bounds of friendship and respect.
"Maybe there's something we don't know?" Akeno suggested. She agreed with Rias: Evil Pieces were far too valuable to waste on a human who was strong but otherwise unremarkable.
"Almost certainly." The club president tossed her thick red hair. "It's too late to play this differently now, but… I'm curious. Aren't you? What do we actually know about him? Plenty of life force—that's good. Straight-A student, top of his class—not bad. The teachers love him, but he hasn't joined any clubs. Quiet, unsociable, serious, responsible. Keeps to himself, makes no effort to get close to anyone. No friends at school. Akeno?"
"You know more about him than I do," Akeno said with a snort. "But that personality reminds me of someone. How about you?"
"Of course it does. He's Sona turned up to eleven." Rias smiled back. "Maybe she just wants to recruit him for the student council and doesn't want us making a play for him? He's not in any clubs, so he has time for council work. Serious, calm, responsible—Sona values all of that."
"That sounds plausible," Akeno said with a nod. "If she wants a capable, hardworking assistant for the future—someone to handle the books, for example—then spending a Pawn on him would be worth it. Besides, he knows martial arts, so he wouldn't be complete dead weight."
"I agree. Raw power matters less in a role like that. But there could be another angle. Maybe it has something to do with his life outside the academy? Should we ask Koneko to find out more about him?"
"Sitri-san might take that the wrong way," Akeno said, shaking her head.
"We'd only be looking into him!" Rias protested. "Nobody's going to try to recruit Chiba! The Gremorys keep their word! We'd just… satisfy our curiosity!"
We are what we eat. To most people, that just means our bodies are made of things we've eaten. But think about it for a moment, and the saying goes deeper.
We're ravenous monsters. We feed on everything and build ourselves out of it all. The sounds our ears devour. The images our eyes drink in. The sensations our skin absorbs. And, of course, food, water, and air. Those too.
All of it together makes us who we are. Food builds the body; the information we take in shapes the personality.
All of that matters to an ordinary mortal. To a practitioner, it matters even more. Food is crucial in the early stages of cultivation. After all, we are what we eat, and a cultivator trying to perfect himself needs to be made of "clean" ingredients.
Our bodies shouldn't have to waste energy purging junk, so we don't stuff ourselves with crap in the first place. Diet matters like hell at the start of the path, and it stays important for a long time. It saves the body's resources, freeing up another percent or two of its potential for something useful even at fairly advanced stages of cultivation.
Only when a practitioner breaks through to levels approaching those of mythical beings can they stop caring what they shovel into the body's furnace. By then, the physical side of things takes a back seat.
But there's a spiritual side, too. That intangible something fed by everything our senses consume. And today, I've seen the light. I'm seeing it right now, sitting on the roof where I always eat lunch and staring at the very healthy bento I made for myself.
I'm an experienced practitioner, and I knew it was my own fault I hadn't broken through. But knowing something and truly understanding it are two different things. I'd… grown set in my ways. Living the same life hundreds of times, give or take a few details, had left my very sense of self stuck in a rut. My own version of Groundhog Day: get my memories back; start cultivating; find a suitable sect; work my way up through it; become the fattest toad in the sect, then the city, the province, the country… and hit a wall. I'd gotten used to it. My overall progress had all but stopped. With each rebirth, if I advanced at all, it was by a few laughable millimeters compared with the hundreds of thousands of kilometers I'd already covered.
It went something like this: you tear down a straight, familiar highway in a sports car, race through every mile you know, and then smash the car flat against a cliff that came out of God knows where. Again and again, with the stubbornness of… the stubbornness of an ancient practitioner. Yeah. The stubbornness of an old man who'd boxed himself in with rules and limits. With DISCIPLINE.
Cultivation, after all, is about disciplining both body and mind. I'd just forgotten that you can have too much of a good thing. And that lucky bastard I'd been thinking about earlier was one big fat hint.
He went off into the unknown, picking raspberries in the thickets. I stuck to the well-worn path, where every bush along the way had already been picked clean. And the kid was mortal. Dead meant dead for him—unlike me!
So who's the idiot now? The guy who risked everything on his one and only chance and won, or me? Me, betting one measly chip at a time and forever breaking even—when I've got a fucking save-and-load mechanic?! Compared to him, I'm a moron!
Instead of trying new things, thinking them through, and hunting for scraps of the Great Meaning, I mapped out the "optimal route," ran it again and again, and got roughly the same result every time. I stopped feeding my spiritual body!!! I starved it!!! Old fool…
And no, I'm not about to go looking for trouble just for the hell of it! It isn't about risking my life—plenty of Ancient Practitioners reached great heights without ever fighting a Great Battle. What I need is something new, and I've had precious little of that. Something genuinely new! New perspectives, new ideas, new experiences, new feelings!
And this world is exactly what I need. Vast stores of information, a different way of life, new ways to grow. Once again, I'm convinced I hit the jackpot with this rebirth.
"And things are about to get even more interesting, aren't they?" I asked a piece of meat from my bento. Before it could answer, it went straight into my maw.
The array for the Nine Eyes of the Sage technique was almost ready. I'd built and anchored its most basic part in my head before I even took the advancement pill. Now that I could manipulate qi with greater precision and my dantian had grown more powerful, I'd finished the work. Soon the world would take on new colors, and all those limitations would be a thing of the past.
The Nine Eyes of the Sage is an immensely powerful, fiendishly complex technique built around a monstrous array. It's demanding as hell. That's precisely why I've been cultivating using only the energy my dantian produces. The martial art I use for that is called "The Might of the Man Who Reached the Stars."
Grandiose name aside… Hm. Then again, in cultivation worlds, you can't judge a technique or a cultivation path by its name. A strike that's only good for squashing a mosquito could be called "The Flaming Dragon of Destruction Swooping Down from the Seventh Heaven."
Yeah, we cultivators have POMP down to a science! I wouldn't be surprised if Warhammer's God-Emperor was actually a Great Practitioner rather than a shaman… Hm. Right, I'm getting sidetracked!
Anyway, the Might of Man is a cultivation path that draws solely on the cultivator's own qi. The only alchemy it allows is the kind that helps produce more of that qi or works on the body itself. Compared with most other paths, it's fairly weak. Follow one of those, and you can burn cities or call down torrents of lightning long before reaching the highest stages.
But it has one enormous advantage: the Nine Eyes of the Sage. It's the best technique I know, letting a cultivator see much, much more. It scales automatically with your cultivation level, only has to be built once, and can be switched on or off at will.
Depending on how far they've advanced, a practitioner who activates the Nine Eyes might gain nothing more than vision sharper than an eagle's—or begin to perceive the world in terms of energy.
As the name suggests, there are nine… hm. Nine modes: keen sight; night vision; qi sight; energy sight, including heat and electricity; unveiling, which lets you see through disguises and illusions; a demon's gaze; a god's gaze… And that's it. I don't know the rest. There are two more modes, but the treatise where I found the array said nothing about them. In my past lives, my cultivation always stalled just as the fifth mode became available.
But there's one catch, and it often puts the technique out of reach of ordinary practitioners. A cultivator's dantian mustn't be attuned to any foreign qi. Only their own human qi will do. Otherwise, when you build the array—which, mind you, goes inside your skull… your brain dies.
Maybe some other kinds of energy wouldn't have that effect. But the practitioner who invented the technique understandably chose not to experiment on himself, and he never assembled a focus group of fellow cultivators. So most practitioners who could build the Nine Eyes of the Sage array choose not to. Those determined to use it spend a very long time cultivating on nothing but their own inner reserves.
In my case, though, those drawbacks aren't nearly as serious. Thanks to the advancement pill, I finished the array and activated the technique two days after my "illness." The Nine Eyes are still coming fully online, linking up with the right parts of my brain. I figure I'll have access to three modes by this evening, and I'll no longer need to keep my dantian from bonding with other kinds of qi.
"Just in time," I whispered, setting aside the empty bento box and settling into a meditation posture. There was still plenty of time before lunch break ended, so I could drive qi through my meridians and do some thinking.
Something weird was going on at Kuou. There was no other way to put it. Ever since I'd run into the student council president and her vice president, every member of the council had been looking at me… strangely.
Before, I'd only ever caught the odd glance, fleeting and almost indifferent. Now there was curiosity in their eyes. Interest. Expectation. I sensed no ill intent, but somehow I'd caught their attention. What had I done to earn it?
As far as I could tell, I hadn't done anything extraordinary. No crazy stunts, nothing to make me stand out. That left two possibilities.
The first was my fake illness. But according to the paperwork, it was real. Besides, why would the student council give a damn? Students got sick. It happened.
The second was my breakthrough. My dantian had reached a whole new level, and I'd gone from an almost ordinary person—albeit an exceptionally healthy and gifted one—to something more than mortal. To other practitioners, I must have stood out among ordinary people like a floodlight among candles.
And I couldn't hide it yet!!! My body and meridians were still rebuilding themselves. Right now, I couldn't suppress my presence for long without damaging my progress. I could end up crippled, and fixing the damage would take years.
It didn't help that my passive senses as a cultivator were only just coming online. I could sense things up close, but a meter or two was my limit. It would take another three or four weeks for everything to settle down, and somehow, someone had already noticed me.
That put me on edge.
Then there was the weirdness brewing right in my own class. Its name was Issei Hyoudou.
Yesterday, I'd caught a glimpse of him with a new girlfriend. With my ridiculously sharp hearing, I'd even heard him bragging about it to the other two members of the Perverted Trio. I was happy for the guy. At last he had a shot at fondling the boobs he'd been dreaming about. The girl was gorgeous, too. Had to be a pervert herself to date him, but gorgeous all the same.
And today…
Nobody remembered a girl named Yuuma Amano. Nobody except Issei and me. That went beyond unnerving. It was a little frightening.
Mind manipulation was nasty shit. Practitioners who dabbled in it tended to get their asses kicked often, hard, and without anyone bothering to be gentle.
Which left me with a few questions. Had they left my mind alone because they assumed I hadn't seen or heard anything? I'd been some distance away; only my cultivation level had let me notice her at all. And why did Issei still remember her?
Besides, Issei himself felt different now. I nearly killed him when he walked past me. For a moment, I took him for a demonic practitioner in disguise. Then I "listened" more closely to the flavor of his qi and relaxed.
There was a hint of something dark about him, but none of the foulness of demonic qi. You couldn't mistake that stuff for anything else. Stale vomit, pus, and a rotting corpse mixed together—that was about the closest I could come to describing the stench my senses picked up from demonic practitioners.
But Issei had definitely gotten stronger. I even had the feeling that someone who might give me a real fight one day had just walked past.
Interesting. Very interesting. Interesting enough that I decided to blow off my plans for the day and follow him after school. I wanted to know what the hell was going on—and what had made him stronger. No cultivator would pass up a free power-up.
So, Issei Hyoudou, today you're getting yourself a bona fide stalker. Sorry, though. It won't be the cute girl you were loudly fantasizing about with your friends a couple of weeks ago.
What goes through your head when you're one step from death? Issei Hyoudou could tell you plenty.
He absolutely did not want to die a second time, especially at the hands of some creepy guy. At least his last dream had a little ecchi in it. This one… Well, dream or not, he didn't want to die again.
Too bad he was going to.
He ran from the frightening man with black wings, but he could feel him closing in…
A string of memories flashed before his eyes. A girl from another school. Yuuma. Beautiful, charming Yuuma, who had asked him out. Their date had been a brief stretch of happiness Issei could hardly believe was real.
She was so cute, so beautiful, so much fun that Hyoudou barely gave his powers of perversion a thought. He simply enjoyed being with her. To his surprise—and delight—he realized he was falling in love with this wonderful girl. She was like a real angel!
Then evening came… and the two of them spent it together in this very park.
And the beautiful dream became a nightmare. Sweet Yuuma changed before his eyes. She looked older, and her unfamiliar school uniform gave way to some outrageously revealing outfit, flashing a spectacular pair of boobs in the process…
Then she killed him. Slaughtered him like a pig.
It hurt like hell, but Hyoudou couldn't tell which was worse: the wound through his chest or his heart shattering into a thousand pieces. One date. A few hours together. And he'd already fallen madly in love with her…
He'd died in that dream. Then he'd woken up in his own bed, alive and unhurt. Only then had Hyoudou realized it must have been a dream. His friends didn't remember his Yuuma. Nobody remembered anything. So he must have dreamed it.
But that didn't put the pieces of his heart back together. The dream had felt so real that Issei was still hurting over what had happened.
But there was something else strange, besides the ridiculously detailed dream in which Issei Hyoudou had fallen in love, been betrayed, and come away with a case of phantom heartache.
First there was Rias-senpai, the most beautiful girl in school. She walked right past Issei, looked at him, and smiled. The way she looked at him, the way she smiled, made his heart skip a beat! That gaze, that smile, that cascade of hair the color of blood…
A memory flashed through his mind. After Yuuma had killed him in that dream, he'd stared at his bloodied hands and thought of Rias. Of her hair, redder than spilled blood, brighter and more tempting than ripe strawberries…
And then Chiba Taro happened to Issei.
All he'd done was walk past his classmate when a wave of bloodlust hit him so hard he would have leapt away—if sheer terror hadn't forced his legs to keep moving. He couldn't even freeze. It lasted only a second, but Hyoudou spent the next ten minutes jumping at every little noise.
Chiba hadn't so much as batted an eye. He'd been his usual unreadable self.
I must have imagined it, Issei decided. Then he started worrying about his sanity. Inexplicable dreams, menacing hallucinations…
After school, Issei went with his friends to check out the latest… uh… additions to their collection of pervy "treasures." And that's when the weirdness really started.
The guys turned off the lights so they could see the TV better. Issei noticed the lights go out, but the room didn't get dark!!! He could still make out everything, even with the curtains drawn and the TV as the only source of light.
Issei left his friends and wandered through the city as dusk fell. To his surprise, he found he could see easily in the dark and hear things from far away.
Before he knew it, Hyoudou had reached the very park where Yuuma had killed him in his dream.
But had it really been a dream?
It was right here, by the small fountain in the middle of the park, that he'd met the creepy man in a cloak with black wings.
First, Hyoudou had felt something strange. The world had turned… odd. For a second, everything seemed to waver in a haze. Then the man appeared, practically radiating menace. It wasn't like the wave of bloodlust he'd felt from Chiba at school, but it was still terrifying.
Issei tried to run. The black-winged man chased him, intent on killing him… and Issei knew he couldn't get away.
He really didn't want to die. Especially at the hands of some creepy guy.
A blur shot out from somewhere near the bushes, cutting his memories short. A gust of wind. A thud and a clang behind him.
"Who the hell are you?!" Hyoudou heard the creepy winged man shout.
Issei turned around and, to his surprise, found a new player on the scene: his classmate, Chiba Taro. Yep, the same guy who'd scared the hell out of him at school!
The gloomy, boring, quiet kid he and his friends had written off as a hopeless loser who was scared of girls looked different now. Issei couldn't quite put his finger on it, but Chiba didn't seem like himself at all.
"Trash," Chiba said, spitting contemptuously as he eyed the creepy man and his glowing weapon. Was it a spear or a sword? Issei couldn't tell.
His classmate's voice sounded different, too. Deep, heavy, and so full of arrogance it was practically overflowing.
"Trash that attacks weak children is unworthy of hearing the Greatness of My Name. Begone, you walking disappointment to your father."
"What?" What little Issei could see of the winged man's face beneath his hat twisted. "Kid. You're not one of those creatures. Not like him." He jerked his chin contemptuously toward Issei, who was so startled he forgot all about running away. "I don't know who you are or how you got past the barrier, but I'll pretend I didn't hear that if you leave right now!"
At that, Chiba… burst out laughing.
Issei caught himself thinking he'd heard that laugh hundreds of times in anime. Scornful, arrogant, meant to humiliate whoever it was aimed at. The laugh of a textbook villain.
"Black Rooster-san, I gave you a chance," Issei's classmate drawled mockingly once he'd finished laughing. The winged man's cheek twitched as Chiba settled into some kind of fighting stance. "Now behold the Might of the Man Who Reached the Stars, trash. Get over here, you motherfucking bastard…"
Then things got unbelievable. With that… insulting excuse for a battle cry, Chiba blurred through the air, closing the distance to the man Issei feared so much in a single second. He reached him and struck.
Only Hyoudou's strange new… abilities let him see the blow land. Then Chiba moved again, appearing behind the man his punch had sent flying. As the winged man hurtled toward him, Chiba met him with another simple punch to the back of the head. The blow stopped him in midair and spun him a full hundred and eighty degrees.
And that wasn't the end…
A flurry of kicks, each a blur of motion, lifted the man farther off the ground. He hung there as if trapped in an antigravity field of pain.
And then…
Issei watched the impossible spectacle in terrified awe. His classmate was pummeling the body suspended in midair. The punches came so fast that Chiba seemed to have dozens of arms, each delivering blow after blow.
As if that weren't enough, a phantom double seemed to sprout from Chiba's lower back. It punched the winged man too, doubling the number of phantom fists.
His classmate had lost himself in the fight, and his unbroken roar echoed across the park…
"ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA-ORA…" Chiba bellowed without pause, pounding the creepy man into… a winged cutlet.
This looks more like a beating than a fight, Issei thought, unable to tear his eyes from the surreal spectacle. A microscopic speck of pity for the man being pummeled stirred in him. Then he remembered how frightened he'd been and promptly strangled it.
Hyoudou was so absorbed in the madness before him that even a reddish glow appearing off to one side failed to draw his attention away.
(Issei Hyoudou, the protagonist of the original story.)
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
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Chapter 4
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Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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The last punch sent the black-winged bastard on a short flight toward the rim of the fountain. I'd wanted a finale straight out of JoJo: elegantly putting my opponent through a fucking wall. But why wreck public property? Besides, there wasn't a wall in sight, and I didn't want to ruin the fountain. Kids played here during the day.
I caught that piece of trash's rather stylish hat and strolled toward his softly groaning body, keeping half an eye on the girls who'd suddenly shown up. So which of us had they been following? Issei had changed, so maybe him. Then again, I'd felt someone watching me now and then, though I could never tell from where. Sometimes it felt like two people at once. What was this, National Stalking Day? Heh.
"How're we feeling, Rooster-san?" I asked in my most insufferably superior tone.
Yeah… Those habits from the cultivation worlds ran deep. In my first few lives, I'd still tried to hold on to my old outlook and the way I used to talk back on Earth. But all that had quickly worn away through one rebirth after another. Some lucky piece of trash would lord it over me, then I'd lord it over some other piece of trash. On and on.
I had to give the winged bastard credit: he looked at me without fear. Shock, surprise, disbelief, anger—sure. But there wasn't a hint of terror in the loser's eyes. I could almost respect him for that. In past lives, I'd tried not to kill people who looked at me that way after losing. Teach them a lesson? Sure. Put them in their place? Without question. Make them show some respect? Absolutely. But kill them? No. I like people with a backbone.
"Who… are… you?" the winged bastard rasped through split lips. His mug was one big bruise, and I doubted things looked much better under his clothes. His whole body had to be hurting like hell. Still, there shouldn't be any broken bones or serious injuries. I hadn't even knocked out a tooth.
We'd been getting acquainted, you might say. Well, not we… My fists had been testing the limits of what his body could take. Once I'd figured out how well he could take a punch and how his innards stood up to my techniques, I'd laid into him hard. Made it hurt, too. Carefully, though.
"I'll introduce myself when you manage to land even one hit on me," I replied, still patronizing but with far less mockery, and turned toward the group of students from my school.
I wasn't planning to kill him. Did I want to? I won't lie—I did. His qi was rich and powerful, somewhat like Issei's, though lighter in tone, closer to neutral. And, like my classmate's, it had none of that demonic filth to it. Besides, what the winged bastard had shown me suggested there was plenty of useful stuff to harvest from his guts. For a haul like that, I'd have been willing to forget all about my opponent's "backbone."
But killing him in front of witnesses—let alone packing his organs into jars—was a bad idea. I hadn't brought any jars, either. I could've "taken him prisoner," then told everyone with a suitably sad face that the winged bastard had flown off like Karlsson on the Roof without even leaving a goodbye note…
But it was too soon. I still hadn't figured out who these people were or what the hell was going on. Anyway, back to the new and familiar faces. With luck, they'd shed a little light on this mess.
I gave Issei one glance. He was frightened, stunned, and clearly understood even less than I did—which was strange, given his sudden increase in power. For now, though, he could wait. The four girls who'd appeared out of some kind of magical diagrams? Now that was interesting.
Stranger still, they held the top four spots in Kuou Academy's unofficial beauty rankings. Gremory Rias was number one and headed the Occult Research Club. Himejima Akeno was number two and Rias's vice president. Shitori Sona was number three and the student council president. Shinra Tsubaki was number four and also served on the student council.
What was this, a beauty pageant? All right. Let's talk.
"A lot of life force, hmm?" Akeno studied Chiba Taro with a faintly mocking smile as he exchanged a few words with his defeated opponent. Behind him hovered some kind of phantom, arms folded across its chest, regarding the battered Fallen with a menacing, arrogant expression. It looked vaguely like Taro, only much bigger: completely bald, with a bare spectral torso rippling with muscle. "He's practically a volcano of life force! And what kind of magic is that?"
"It's a Stand!" Rias whispered in delight beside her. Only then did Akeno notice that her friend's lofty, aristocratic expression had given way to pure excitement. The Occult Research Club's vice president could have sworn the redhead's irises were trying to turn into stars. "Sona! Sona-chan!"
"No," the student council president replied, curt and unyielding. She had appeared in the park at the same moment as Rias and Akeno.
"Oh, come on, Sona-chan…" Gremory pleaded like a child, pressing her palms together as if in prayer. "He has a Stand!"
Sitri met her childhood friend's gaze, and for a moment Akeno thought she was about to give in. The student council president looked briefly uncertain, but then her expression turned cold and serious again.
"No, Rias! We're adults now. That doesn't work on me anymore," Sona said coldly, turning her attention back to Chiba, who was now facing them.
"Tch." Rias's cheek twitched in irritation, and Akeno nearly laughed.
"Hmph." Sitri lifted her chin, making it clear she wasn't budging.
"Lovely ladies," Chiba greeted them as he approached, bowing politely. The arrogance and contempt had vanished from his face the moment he turned toward them. Now his face was a mask of calm, with a faint, friendly smile. Amusingly, the phantom dipped its bald head a little, too. "Issei-kun, are you all right?"
Akeno felt a little ashamed. She'd completely forgotten about Rias's new servant while enjoying the whole "ORA-ORA" show and following the exchange between the two childhood friends.
"Huh? Y-yes, yes! Th-thank you, Chiba-kun!" Hyoudou started to get up from the ground, but when he caught Chiba's icy stare and the phantom's openly angry glare, he hastily corrected himself. "I mean, Chiba-san! Thank you!"
"You're welcome, Issei-kun." Taro smiled warmly and gave a slight nod. The phantom lost interest in Hyoudou and began casting curious glances at the girls. When it met Akeno's eyes, it gave her a cheerful wink, making her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "But you need to work on yourself. For a guy with your kind of power, you're criminally defenseless. If you don't make time to grow stronger, trash like that"—he gave a contemptuous nod toward the Fallen struggling to his feet—"will keep walking all over you."
"Is that a Stand?" Rias couldn't resist asking as she studied the phantom behind him.
"No." Chiba smiled openly. It was the first time Akeno had seen him do that, though she'd hardly spent much time watching him. "It's a Reflection of Might. But I can see the resemblance, yes."
"Are you a monk, Chiba-san?" asked the heiress of House Sitri, adjusting her glasses with a graceful gesture. "I've heard monks in the Middle Kingdom practice something similar."
"I'm not a monk, Shitori-san." Taro shook his head. "I practice martial arts. But I can see the resemblance, yes."
"Martial arts?" Akeno asked in surprise, pointing at the phantom. "What kind of martial arts let you do that?"
"ORA!" bellowed the Reflection of Might. It grinned at Akeno, clearly pleased with itself, then struck a bodybuilder's pose to show off its muscles. Impressive, actually.
Chiba grimaced faintly at the shout behind him, and the phantom melted away.
"Please excuse him," he said with a slight bow. "The Reflection of Might always has trouble keeping its emotions in check. It's a good technique, but outside a fight it starts goofing around."
"Does he have emotions?" Tsubaki spoke up for the first time. Her expression was as composed as ever, but her eyes betrayed her curiosity.
"A reflection of my emotions and my mind. Both distorted, like in a funhouse mirror," Chiba explained with the faintest hint of a smile. "But, lovely ladies, please enlighten me. What exactly is going on? Who's that piece of trash with the stylish hat? And who are you ladies, teleporting around like that?"
Was I bitching about the "culties"? Forget it. Cultivation worlds actually make sense. To me, anyway. Demons are vile creatures, and every encounter with them calls for full-on "annihilate your conversation partner" mode. Gods are bastards too, but you can negotiate with them and even come away without being turned into some vile eldritch horror, a cripple, or a corpse—as long as you show enough respect.
One law runs like a jade rod through everything in the cultivation worlds: the law of strength. Humans, gods, demons, mythical beasts—they all bow to the strong. That's the foundation. The skeleton, with every creature in those worlds forming the "flesh" around it. The strong must be shown respect.
I learned that fairly quickly, though unfortunately not quickly enough. Stupid ideas I'd picked up from fanfiction and all sorts of comics tempted me to mouth off for a while. Not for long. Long enough.
Let's put it this way: Prometheus, who had his liver pecked out, got off very, very easy. I learned my lesson. I bowed to anyone stronger than me, treated them with respect, minded my manners, and even groveled when I had to. Oh, yes. I can just imagine some people recoiling at that. They'd never do it. Better to die with your head held high than live on your knees. What a bunch of hypocritical bullshitters. They're often too chickenshit even to disagree with their potbellied boss. He might dock their pay—or even take away their bonus!
In a cultivation world, though, if you're the piece of trash who humiliated a Great Venerable, they won't even let you die with your head held high. You'll live! For years. Decades. You'll spend years enjoying bamboo shoots growing through your body, then get healed up and go through it all again. And again, and again, and again… Until the "novelty" wears off. And just when you're getting used to it, when even your screams have gone halfhearted… they'll dream up some new "fun" for you.
So, my proud friends, if you ever end up in a "cultie" world, make sure you mouth off to a god first thing. You'll have an experience you'll never find the words to describe. Better yet, try a Great Demon. Those bastards know some very interesting party games.
Here on this Earth—which probably wasn't even the Earth where I'd been born the first time around—some weird shit was going on. When Shitori Sona, who turned out to be Sitri Sona, a high-ranking member of something called House Sitri, offered to enlighten me, I breathed a sigh of relief. Gremory Rias, of House Gremory, had pulled herself together enough to start fussing over Issei like a mother hen.
I even let Sona teleport me, as a gesture of trust. But what she told me…
The teleportation itself worked on principles I didn't recognize. It barely used any qi. I figured what I'd sensed was only one part of a process I didn't yet understand. I could feel other kinds of energy around us, too, which seemed to support that theory.
It would be fascinating if this was magic. I mean actual spellcasting—the sort you see in Harry Potter—rather than some high-level array. I was eager to add something new to my arsenal.
For starters, she unfurled a pair of little leathery wings from her back and announced that she was a demon. I still don't know how I managed not to laugh my ass off. If the Reflection of Might had been active, it would've dissolved into "ORA-ORA" hysterics.
Something must have shown on my mug, though, despite my best efforts to keep it impassive. Sitri-san started "reassuring" me that their bad reputation among mortals was wildly exaggerated.
And I… accepted it. A demon? Fine. Different world, different rules, different demons. They didn't look like some cross between a slug, an insect, and a shoggoth. Just cute girls with little wings. That was actually a plus.
She could still have been something vile in an exceptionally good disguise, but the odds were close to zero. After what I'd gone through with the Staff of the Four Demons, I knew the stench of those freaks too well to miss it.
On top of that, the black-winged guy I'd just dominated turned out to be a Fallen Angel. He'd run into Issei and tried to whack the kid. Why? Turns out my classmate had been enslaved. I mean, he now worked for Gremory Rias-senpai and had been reincarnated as a demon. How, why, or what for—Sitri-san didn't know. But the stylish guy had come across a lone, freshly "hatched" demonling and decided to bump him off.
The Fallen and the Demons hate each other. That's the short version. The long version? It's complicated. Then there are the Angels in Heaven. The Fallen got kicked out, but these ones are still up there, chirping away. Sometimes they shit on people. Pigeons, basically, only with bigger droppings.
Relations among all three factions are strained, to put it mildly. Bad blood, like I said. But there's always a "but." Ever since people—let's call them people—learned to talk, they've been trying to talk things out. That's where "it's complicated" comes in.
The student council president gave me the broad strokes, explaining that bringing me fully up to speed would take more than a day. But she was clear, calm, and to the point. To Sitri-san's credit, if she was trying to make her people look better, she was doing it with a light touch. I hadn't caught her singing their praises. Not yet, anyway.
I was getting my ignorant ass educated in the student council office, where we'd teleported straight from the park. Shinra Tsubaki was there with Sitri-san and me. She'd kindly made tea for all of us and sat beside her boss, looking as serious as ever.
Her boss in every sense, by the way. Sona was the heiress of House Sitri. In the demon world, Tsubaki was her servant; at school, she helped her run the student council. She'd once been a mere mortal, but she'd accepted Sona's offer, joined her… hmm… chess squad, and been reincarnated as a demon.
"Join House Sitri?" I took a sip of tea and thought it over.
I'd expected something like this ever since I learned Issei now worked for Gremory. I couldn't imagine what Gremory Rias wanted with a guy whose only unusual trait seemed to be a raging libido, but she'd taken him into her service. And judging by a few things my classmate and his new "employer" had said, there hadn't been so much as a job interview.
I suppose I was meant to be outraged, but to me it all seemed perfectly normal. A powerful woman had taken a weaker man into her service. All he could do was accept it and thank his mistress for not chaining him up and making him bark at a snap of her fingers. I'm dead serious. If I'd taken a guy like that into my service, it would've been as a jester.
Though I suspected there was something about Hyoudou Issei I didn't know. Both Sona and Tsubaki had seemed oddly hesitant when they talked about him. And according to Sitri-san, an Evil Piece was far too valuable to waste on someone who was plainly dead weight.
Speaking of Evil Pieces: now there's a hell of a power-up. I'd call one a Legacy without hesitation. Or a Great Alchemical Elixir. A Piece changes a person, turning them into a demon. It doesn't seal away or block the abilities they had as a human, either. Quite the opposite—it makes them stronger.
On top of that, it grants an incredibly long life, near immortality. You get the demonic abilities shared by the whole race thrown in, too. The possibilities were incredible. Very, very tempting, if you thought things through a little more than the idiots who'd immediately start squealing about lost freedom and slavery.
A cultivator who's spent decades breaking his back as a junior disciple in a sect knows a hell of a lot more about slavery than some people. And no Senior Master is going to sit him down for an interview and serve him tea. Trash should be grateful just for the chance to drink from the wellspring of wisdom, even if all he gets is a miserly trickle. And even that won't come free. He'll have to work himself ragged, straining so hard he could bite through rebar with his asshole.
There were two other interesting possibilities. First, I could work my way up to becoming a King in my own right, like Sona-san. Funny how all it took was getting stronger and making a name for yourself. Almost smelled like a cultivation sect. Then I'd get my own set of Pieces and put together my own party.
The second possibility was interesting too. Evil Pieces couldn't turn exceptionally powerful beings into demons, and I had no intention of stopping my cultivation. There was a chance I could grow strong enough that my body would either "digest" the Piece or reject it outright. That was only a guess for now, mind you.
So much for eternal slavery, huh? It's only eternal for lazy dumbasses and impatient idiots who want everything at once, and for free.
Sitri Sona was a very clever girl. I gazed thoughtfully into her beautiful violet eyes and caught the faintest hint of a smile behind that calm facade.
I didn't know how she'd figured it out. Maybe she'd put it together after watching me for a few days and seeing me fight once. That was probably it. Earth was getting cramped. Too cramped to cultivate properly, and keeping my training under wraps was turning into a nightmare. Especially now that I wouldn't be limited to human qi for much longer.
And House Sitri had made me a wonderful offer: training grounds in Hell, on clan territory under Sona's authority. I doubted she had any idea just how good an offer that was. Access to Hell meant access to new ingredients, and judging by what I could sense from the two girls, there was no shortage of materials brimming with energy. That would open the door to mid-level classical alchemy.
It would take plenty of experiments and tests, of course, but I was more than confident I could find substitutes for some of the ingredients my alchemical recipes called for.
And all I had to do for this bounty was bash in the faces of the lovely Sitri Sona-san's enemies and help her with House affairs and student council business. Pfft.
Somewhere deep inside me, the Ancient Practitioner was cackling in triumph and stroking his neat little beard. The naive girl was politely inviting a goat into her cabbage patch and asking him to eat his fill and butt heads to his heart's content.
"And what am I supposed to do with it, Sitri-san? I hope this artifact isn't used in some… unnatural way?" I eyed the scarlet Rook, which radiated qi mingled with something else. Shinra Tsubaki coughed, while the student council president gave me a restrained but triumphant smile.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
I caught that piece of trash's rather stylish hat and strolled toward his softly groaning body, keeping half an eye on the girls who'd suddenly shown up. So which of us had they been following? Issei had changed, so maybe him. Then again, I'd felt someone watching me now and then, though I could never tell from where. Sometimes it felt like two people at once. What was this, National Stalking Day? Heh.
"How're we feeling, Rooster-san?" I asked in my most insufferably superior tone.
Yeah… Those habits from the cultivation worlds ran deep. In my first few lives, I'd still tried to hold on to my old outlook and the way I used to talk back on Earth. But all that had quickly worn away through one rebirth after another. Some lucky piece of trash would lord it over me, then I'd lord it over some other piece of trash. On and on.
I had to give the winged bastard credit: he looked at me without fear. Shock, surprise, disbelief, anger—sure. But there wasn't a hint of terror in the loser's eyes. I could almost respect him for that. In past lives, I'd tried not to kill people who looked at me that way after losing. Teach them a lesson? Sure. Put them in their place? Without question. Make them show some respect? Absolutely. But kill them? No. I like people with a backbone.
"Who… are… you?" the winged bastard rasped through split lips. His mug was one big bruise, and I doubted things looked much better under his clothes. His whole body had to be hurting like hell. Still, there shouldn't be any broken bones or serious injuries. I hadn't even knocked out a tooth.
We'd been getting acquainted, you might say. Well, not we… My fists had been testing the limits of what his body could take. Once I'd figured out how well he could take a punch and how his innards stood up to my techniques, I'd laid into him hard. Made it hurt, too. Carefully, though.
"I'll introduce myself when you manage to land even one hit on me," I replied, still patronizing but with far less mockery, and turned toward the group of students from my school.
I wasn't planning to kill him. Did I want to? I won't lie—I did. His qi was rich and powerful, somewhat like Issei's, though lighter in tone, closer to neutral. And, like my classmate's, it had none of that demonic filth to it. Besides, what the winged bastard had shown me suggested there was plenty of useful stuff to harvest from his guts. For a haul like that, I'd have been willing to forget all about my opponent's "backbone."
But killing him in front of witnesses—let alone packing his organs into jars—was a bad idea. I hadn't brought any jars, either. I could've "taken him prisoner," then told everyone with a suitably sad face that the winged bastard had flown off like Karlsson on the Roof without even leaving a goodbye note…
But it was too soon. I still hadn't figured out who these people were or what the hell was going on. Anyway, back to the new and familiar faces. With luck, they'd shed a little light on this mess.
I gave Issei one glance. He was frightened, stunned, and clearly understood even less than I did—which was strange, given his sudden increase in power. For now, though, he could wait. The four girls who'd appeared out of some kind of magical diagrams? Now that was interesting.
Stranger still, they held the top four spots in Kuou Academy's unofficial beauty rankings. Gremory Rias was number one and headed the Occult Research Club. Himejima Akeno was number two and Rias's vice president. Shitori Sona was number three and the student council president. Shinra Tsubaki was number four and also served on the student council.
What was this, a beauty pageant? All right. Let's talk.
"A lot of life force, hmm?" Akeno studied Chiba Taro with a faintly mocking smile as he exchanged a few words with his defeated opponent. Behind him hovered some kind of phantom, arms folded across its chest, regarding the battered Fallen with a menacing, arrogant expression. It looked vaguely like Taro, only much bigger: completely bald, with a bare spectral torso rippling with muscle. "He's practically a volcano of life force! And what kind of magic is that?"
"It's a Stand!" Rias whispered in delight beside her. Only then did Akeno notice that her friend's lofty, aristocratic expression had given way to pure excitement. The Occult Research Club's vice president could have sworn the redhead's irises were trying to turn into stars. "Sona! Sona-chan!"
"No," the student council president replied, curt and unyielding. She had appeared in the park at the same moment as Rias and Akeno.
"Oh, come on, Sona-chan…" Gremory pleaded like a child, pressing her palms together as if in prayer. "He has a Stand!"
Sitri met her childhood friend's gaze, and for a moment Akeno thought she was about to give in. The student council president looked briefly uncertain, but then her expression turned cold and serious again.
"No, Rias! We're adults now. That doesn't work on me anymore," Sona said coldly, turning her attention back to Chiba, who was now facing them.
"Tch." Rias's cheek twitched in irritation, and Akeno nearly laughed.
"Hmph." Sitri lifted her chin, making it clear she wasn't budging.
"Lovely ladies," Chiba greeted them as he approached, bowing politely. The arrogance and contempt had vanished from his face the moment he turned toward them. Now his face was a mask of calm, with a faint, friendly smile. Amusingly, the phantom dipped its bald head a little, too. "Issei-kun, are you all right?"
Akeno felt a little ashamed. She'd completely forgotten about Rias's new servant while enjoying the whole "ORA-ORA" show and following the exchange between the two childhood friends.
"Huh? Y-yes, yes! Th-thank you, Chiba-kun!" Hyoudou started to get up from the ground, but when he caught Chiba's icy stare and the phantom's openly angry glare, he hastily corrected himself. "I mean, Chiba-san! Thank you!"
"You're welcome, Issei-kun." Taro smiled warmly and gave a slight nod. The phantom lost interest in Hyoudou and began casting curious glances at the girls. When it met Akeno's eyes, it gave her a cheerful wink, making her eyebrows shoot up in surprise. "But you need to work on yourself. For a guy with your kind of power, you're criminally defenseless. If you don't make time to grow stronger, trash like that"—he gave a contemptuous nod toward the Fallen struggling to his feet—"will keep walking all over you."
"Is that a Stand?" Rias couldn't resist asking as she studied the phantom behind him.
"No." Chiba smiled openly. It was the first time Akeno had seen him do that, though she'd hardly spent much time watching him. "It's a Reflection of Might. But I can see the resemblance, yes."
"Are you a monk, Chiba-san?" asked the heiress of House Sitri, adjusting her glasses with a graceful gesture. "I've heard monks in the Middle Kingdom practice something similar."
"I'm not a monk, Shitori-san." Taro shook his head. "I practice martial arts. But I can see the resemblance, yes."
"Martial arts?" Akeno asked in surprise, pointing at the phantom. "What kind of martial arts let you do that?"
"ORA!" bellowed the Reflection of Might. It grinned at Akeno, clearly pleased with itself, then struck a bodybuilder's pose to show off its muscles. Impressive, actually.
Chiba grimaced faintly at the shout behind him, and the phantom melted away.
"Please excuse him," he said with a slight bow. "The Reflection of Might always has trouble keeping its emotions in check. It's a good technique, but outside a fight it starts goofing around."
"Does he have emotions?" Tsubaki spoke up for the first time. Her expression was as composed as ever, but her eyes betrayed her curiosity.
"A reflection of my emotions and my mind. Both distorted, like in a funhouse mirror," Chiba explained with the faintest hint of a smile. "But, lovely ladies, please enlighten me. What exactly is going on? Who's that piece of trash with the stylish hat? And who are you ladies, teleporting around like that?"
Was I bitching about the "culties"? Forget it. Cultivation worlds actually make sense. To me, anyway. Demons are vile creatures, and every encounter with them calls for full-on "annihilate your conversation partner" mode. Gods are bastards too, but you can negotiate with them and even come away without being turned into some vile eldritch horror, a cripple, or a corpse—as long as you show enough respect.
One law runs like a jade rod through everything in the cultivation worlds: the law of strength. Humans, gods, demons, mythical beasts—they all bow to the strong. That's the foundation. The skeleton, with every creature in those worlds forming the "flesh" around it. The strong must be shown respect.
I learned that fairly quickly, though unfortunately not quickly enough. Stupid ideas I'd picked up from fanfiction and all sorts of comics tempted me to mouth off for a while. Not for long. Long enough.
Let's put it this way: Prometheus, who had his liver pecked out, got off very, very easy. I learned my lesson. I bowed to anyone stronger than me, treated them with respect, minded my manners, and even groveled when I had to. Oh, yes. I can just imagine some people recoiling at that. They'd never do it. Better to die with your head held high than live on your knees. What a bunch of hypocritical bullshitters. They're often too chickenshit even to disagree with their potbellied boss. He might dock their pay—or even take away their bonus!
In a cultivation world, though, if you're the piece of trash who humiliated a Great Venerable, they won't even let you die with your head held high. You'll live! For years. Decades. You'll spend years enjoying bamboo shoots growing through your body, then get healed up and go through it all again. And again, and again, and again… Until the "novelty" wears off. And just when you're getting used to it, when even your screams have gone halfhearted… they'll dream up some new "fun" for you.
So, my proud friends, if you ever end up in a "cultie" world, make sure you mouth off to a god first thing. You'll have an experience you'll never find the words to describe. Better yet, try a Great Demon. Those bastards know some very interesting party games.
Here on this Earth—which probably wasn't even the Earth where I'd been born the first time around—some weird shit was going on. When Shitori Sona, who turned out to be Sitri Sona, a high-ranking member of something called House Sitri, offered to enlighten me, I breathed a sigh of relief. Gremory Rias, of House Gremory, had pulled herself together enough to start fussing over Issei like a mother hen.
I even let Sona teleport me, as a gesture of trust. But what she told me…
The teleportation itself worked on principles I didn't recognize. It barely used any qi. I figured what I'd sensed was only one part of a process I didn't yet understand. I could feel other kinds of energy around us, too, which seemed to support that theory.
It would be fascinating if this was magic. I mean actual spellcasting—the sort you see in Harry Potter—rather than some high-level array. I was eager to add something new to my arsenal.
For starters, she unfurled a pair of little leathery wings from her back and announced that she was a demon. I still don't know how I managed not to laugh my ass off. If the Reflection of Might had been active, it would've dissolved into "ORA-ORA" hysterics.
Something must have shown on my mug, though, despite my best efforts to keep it impassive. Sitri-san started "reassuring" me that their bad reputation among mortals was wildly exaggerated.
And I… accepted it. A demon? Fine. Different world, different rules, different demons. They didn't look like some cross between a slug, an insect, and a shoggoth. Just cute girls with little wings. That was actually a plus.
She could still have been something vile in an exceptionally good disguise, but the odds were close to zero. After what I'd gone through with the Staff of the Four Demons, I knew the stench of those freaks too well to miss it.
On top of that, the black-winged guy I'd just dominated turned out to be a Fallen Angel. He'd run into Issei and tried to whack the kid. Why? Turns out my classmate had been enslaved. I mean, he now worked for Gremory Rias-senpai and had been reincarnated as a demon. How, why, or what for—Sitri-san didn't know. But the stylish guy had come across a lone, freshly "hatched" demonling and decided to bump him off.
The Fallen and the Demons hate each other. That's the short version. The long version? It's complicated. Then there are the Angels in Heaven. The Fallen got kicked out, but these ones are still up there, chirping away. Sometimes they shit on people. Pigeons, basically, only with bigger droppings.
Relations among all three factions are strained, to put it mildly. Bad blood, like I said. But there's always a "but." Ever since people—let's call them people—learned to talk, they've been trying to talk things out. That's where "it's complicated" comes in.
The student council president gave me the broad strokes, explaining that bringing me fully up to speed would take more than a day. But she was clear, calm, and to the point. To Sitri-san's credit, if she was trying to make her people look better, she was doing it with a light touch. I hadn't caught her singing their praises. Not yet, anyway.
I was getting my ignorant ass educated in the student council office, where we'd teleported straight from the park. Shinra Tsubaki was there with Sitri-san and me. She'd kindly made tea for all of us and sat beside her boss, looking as serious as ever.
Her boss in every sense, by the way. Sona was the heiress of House Sitri. In the demon world, Tsubaki was her servant; at school, she helped her run the student council. She'd once been a mere mortal, but she'd accepted Sona's offer, joined her… hmm… chess squad, and been reincarnated as a demon.
"Join House Sitri?" I took a sip of tea and thought it over.
I'd expected something like this ever since I learned Issei now worked for Gremory. I couldn't imagine what Gremory Rias wanted with a guy whose only unusual trait seemed to be a raging libido, but she'd taken him into her service. And judging by a few things my classmate and his new "employer" had said, there hadn't been so much as a job interview.
I suppose I was meant to be outraged, but to me it all seemed perfectly normal. A powerful woman had taken a weaker man into her service. All he could do was accept it and thank his mistress for not chaining him up and making him bark at a snap of her fingers. I'm dead serious. If I'd taken a guy like that into my service, it would've been as a jester.
Though I suspected there was something about Hyoudou Issei I didn't know. Both Sona and Tsubaki had seemed oddly hesitant when they talked about him. And according to Sitri-san, an Evil Piece was far too valuable to waste on someone who was plainly dead weight.
Speaking of Evil Pieces: now there's a hell of a power-up. I'd call one a Legacy without hesitation. Or a Great Alchemical Elixir. A Piece changes a person, turning them into a demon. It doesn't seal away or block the abilities they had as a human, either. Quite the opposite—it makes them stronger.
On top of that, it grants an incredibly long life, near immortality. You get the demonic abilities shared by the whole race thrown in, too. The possibilities were incredible. Very, very tempting, if you thought things through a little more than the idiots who'd immediately start squealing about lost freedom and slavery.
A cultivator who's spent decades breaking his back as a junior disciple in a sect knows a hell of a lot more about slavery than some people. And no Senior Master is going to sit him down for an interview and serve him tea. Trash should be grateful just for the chance to drink from the wellspring of wisdom, even if all he gets is a miserly trickle. And even that won't come free. He'll have to work himself ragged, straining so hard he could bite through rebar with his asshole.
There were two other interesting possibilities. First, I could work my way up to becoming a King in my own right, like Sona-san. Funny how all it took was getting stronger and making a name for yourself. Almost smelled like a cultivation sect. Then I'd get my own set of Pieces and put together my own party.
The second possibility was interesting too. Evil Pieces couldn't turn exceptionally powerful beings into demons, and I had no intention of stopping my cultivation. There was a chance I could grow strong enough that my body would either "digest" the Piece or reject it outright. That was only a guess for now, mind you.
So much for eternal slavery, huh? It's only eternal for lazy dumbasses and impatient idiots who want everything at once, and for free.
Sitri Sona was a very clever girl. I gazed thoughtfully into her beautiful violet eyes and caught the faintest hint of a smile behind that calm facade.
I didn't know how she'd figured it out. Maybe she'd put it together after watching me for a few days and seeing me fight once. That was probably it. Earth was getting cramped. Too cramped to cultivate properly, and keeping my training under wraps was turning into a nightmare. Especially now that I wouldn't be limited to human qi for much longer.
And House Sitri had made me a wonderful offer: training grounds in Hell, on clan territory under Sona's authority. I doubted she had any idea just how good an offer that was. Access to Hell meant access to new ingredients, and judging by what I could sense from the two girls, there was no shortage of materials brimming with energy. That would open the door to mid-level classical alchemy.
It would take plenty of experiments and tests, of course, but I was more than confident I could find substitutes for some of the ingredients my alchemical recipes called for.
And all I had to do for this bounty was bash in the faces of the lovely Sitri Sona-san's enemies and help her with House affairs and student council business. Pfft.
Somewhere deep inside me, the Ancient Practitioner was cackling in triumph and stroking his neat little beard. The naive girl was politely inviting a goat into her cabbage patch and asking him to eat his fill and butt heads to his heart's content.
"And what am I supposed to do with it, Sitri-san? I hope this artifact isn't used in some… unnatural way?" I eyed the scarlet Rook, which radiated qi mingled with something else. Shinra Tsubaki coughed, while the student council president gave me a restrained but triumphant smile.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Chapter 5
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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"Is this normal?" Tsubaki asked.
Sona rarely saw Tsubaki show such strong emotion. She had feelings, of course; Shinra-chan was simply very reserved. Loyal and caring, intelligent and serious—her Queen embodied the very qualities the heiress of House Sitri valued.
Yet now the astonishment on her closest aide's face was impossible to miss. Chiba-kun had begun accepting the Rook—the Evil Piece that had responded to him—but the process wasn't going at all as it usually did.
He had settled into the lotus position and taken the Rook in his hands. That was when things got strange. Over a minute had passed, and the process showed no sign of ending. The Piece itself was sinking into his body very, very slowly.
"I've never seen anything like it," Sona said, shaking her head as she sat down on the sofa and topped up her tea. "Let's wait and see."
Her new servant was a strange one—still human, for now. He kept surprising her even as he accepted the Evil Piece.
Despite her worries about the strange way Chiba's reincarnation was unfolding, a faint smile of triumph crossed Sona's face. They'd gotten lucky this time. The student council played an active role in school life, so she kept a list of every student who showed even a hint of promise.
Chiba-kun was on that list. She knew enough about him to see that he could be useful: in Hell as a servant of House Sitri, or in the human world working for the Shitori family. Someone so diligent and determined would always be in demand.
Sona was still inexperienced, but she worked hard to live up to her position as heiress. She took every opportunity to strengthen herself and her House, even when that meant offering the House's patronage to promising young mortals.
It had all begun quite recently. Sona had seen it herself: the quiet, composed, serious Chiba Taro-kun had returned to school after his "cold" practically glowing with life force. He had stood out before, but that seemed normal enough given his training under a renowned kendo master, his wushu classes, his healthy lifestyle, and his almost fanatical attention to his diet.
But no healthy lifestyle could explain such a leap. That much life force was beyond human limits. They had looked for an explanation and found none. An athletic young man had fallen ill, spent a week at home, and come back to school changed. He and his parents were entirely human, and nothing suspicious had been found in his home.
"Sitri-san," Tsubaki said, drawing her attention. "Why did he agree so quickly? He didn't even take time to… What's that?"
An expression of deep frustration crossed Taro's serene face. Gold flashed beneath his closed eyelids—brief and bright, like a lightbulb burning out.
"Blood?" Sona's voice grew worried. Blood was running from Taro's nose.
The heiress of House Sitri barely had time to frown before his face was serene again.
"Everything's fine, Sitri-sama," Chiba-kun said, sounding a little guilty. "I'm sorry I worried you."
"Chiba-kun?" Sona was startled to hear him speak. "What's going on? Why is it taking so long? What was that flash?"
"Everything is proceeding as it should. I have almost no control over it, but I've managed to slow it down. My body is my kingdom, but the power of this artifact, this Evil Piece, is like a great army inexorably conquering my lands. I have only enough strength to slow its advance. Incredible power."
"But why?" Tsubaki couldn't help asking. "You agreed to this!"
"Two reasons." Frustration crossed his face again. "My dantian, the seat of life, has begun producing altered qi. My body is changing along with it. The reincarnation is happening on every level. The array I built inside my head had one absolute requirement: it had to be constructed from qi native to my body. But the life energy I used to build it is now foreign to me. If I hadn't destroyed the array before the changes reached my brain, it would have killed me. Several months of work down the drain, unfortunately."
"And the second?" Sona made a mental note of what her… not-quite-servant had said and prompted him to continue.
"A thirsty man drinks from every spring." A delighted smile spread across Taro's face. "I thirst for strength, for power. And what's happening inside my body is the work of a truly great mind. I dare to hope I can grasp at least some of the principles and mechanisms at work within me."
"Oh?" Sona was surprised yet again. Slowing down his reincarnation so he could study it? That was… highly unusual.
"As for your question, Shinra-san, I thought it through carefully before I agreed." His smile faded. His expression was serene again, his voice measured and calm. "Your faction seemed the best fit for me. I intend to become strong. Very strong. But that's a difficult road. I'll need resources and training. I doubt I can get everything I need on my own, and even if I can, I won't be able to keep my growing power a secret. I'll need fights, chances to hone my skills, opponents worth facing. Someone will notice. Maybe not ordinary people, but one of the three factions certainly will."
Chiba Taro fell silent for several seconds. When Tsubaki was about to hurry him along, Sona stopped her with a hand on her arm. Whatever he was observing within himself seemed to demand his full attention.
"As I grow stronger, someone will notice," he continued as though he'd never paused. "And the factions won't be content to leave me alone. No matter what a powerful neutral promises, he could always side with an enemy. The Fallen seem the least appealing option, all else being equal. For one thing, I beat up the only black-winged bird I've met, and I don't even know his name."
"Yes, that was unwise," Tsubaki said with a hint of mockery. The remark was meant more for Sona than for the boy, who still sat with his eyes closed.
"Not at all," Chiba replied. "Two things led me to join that fight: the surveillance I'd sensed ever since you and Sitri-sama took such an interest in me in the school corridor, and Hyoudou Issei's sudden increase in strength. Someone noticed the changes in me at school, so there was a good chance it was you. Too many coincidences: my progress in cultivation, the unexplained attention of the school's most beautiful girls—who'd barely spared me an indifferent glance before—and then the surveillance. I concluded that the school had 'owners.' Fairly friendly ones, at that. I was being watched, but no one tried to pressure me. I appreciated that. An idiot might have taken offense at being watched, but I'm no idiot. I'd keep an eye on an unfamiliar young man on my turf too. I wouldn't want some stranger causing trouble in my own backyard."
Sona exchanged a look with Tsubaki. It was interesting to follow Taro's reasoning. He'd had few facts to work with, but his conclusions seemed sound.
"And then there was Issei. He'd changed. Grown stronger. I could sense he might become an opponent worth fighting one day. Not yet, of course—right now he's still trash—but the potential is there. And as I said, I want to grow stronger. So I decided to keep an eye on him, just as you'd kept an eye on me. That gave me two possibilities: the school's mysterious owners might approach me, or Hyoudou might lead me to the information I was after. Then that winged piece of trash in the stylish hat showed up. Perfect opportunity. Save Issei, get some answers, and do his patrons a favor. He had to have patrons. Someone like Issei couldn't have gained that kind of power on his own. Unless you count the power to get a hard-on."
"And what if he really had been on his own?" Sona asked.
"He couldn't have been. I heard what the winged man said, and I saw Issei's reaction. The Fallen asked Hyoudou-kun, 'Where's your master?' The feathered trash in the hat sounded certain. He assumed my classmate was either out wandering on his own or an Exile, while Issei just gaped at him. To be thrown out of somewhere, you have to have been there in the first place, and Hyoudou's dumb face made it perfectly clear he had no idea what was going on. So there was a chance he was a new initiate who didn't even know he'd joined anything. Anyone even slightly acquainted with that member of the Perverted Trio would have no trouble believing it."
He fell silent for a couple of seconds, frowned slightly, then raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Marvelous…"
"What?" Tsubaki asked, confused.
"The changes. They're incredible…" He fell silent for a few more seconds, then his expression became serene once more. "Forgive me. I got distracted. Anyway, even if Issei had been on his own, saving him could still have gotten me information. Maybe he'd found some strange object or something. Either way, I stood to gain. But when you appeared in the park, everything fell into place. And after Sitri-sama explained things, I decided House Sitri was a perfect fit for me."
"And what makes you say that?" Sona asked with a faint smile.
"As I said, things are already strained between me and the Fallen. Cross them off. I know nothing about the angels, for one thing. For another, I'm not fond of men dressed in white. Too often, the only things setting them apart from everyone else are clean clothes and lofty slogans. Cross them off. You…" He paused, and Sona thought she caught the faintest mocking smile on his face. "The demons seemed the most appealing choice, based on what I know. You came to Issei's aid—a little late, granted, but you came. Gremory-san was very sweet with Hyoudou, fussing over him like that… Your teleportation magic impressed me. And you attend the same academy I do. You know where I live, who I am, who my parents are. You could make trouble for me. Besides, there are two groups operating here, and you don't seem to be enemies. And I'm happy with the terms you offered."
"Why Sitri and not Gremory?" Sona asked, taking a sip of tea.
"First, because Sitri-sama defeated Gremory-san in the battle for me. I heard your conversation, and now that I know about the Evil Pieces, I understand what it was about. An argument is a battle too, and whoever is stronger wins. All else being equal, I'd rather serve the stronger party. Second, that argument showed me your Houses had already reached an agreement about me. Gremory-san is unlikely to want to offend Sitri-sama. Third, there's Issei, who clearly serves House Gremory. He's a decent enough guy, even amusing, but if I spent too much time around him, I'm afraid I'd end up killing him during one of Hyoudou's bouts of terminal horniness. And fourth and finally, Sitri-sama ranks first when it comes to beauty. So, given a choice between her and Gremory-san, of course I choose Sitri Sona-sama."
"According to Kuoh Academy's unofficial beauty rankings, I'm in third place," Sona corrected him calmly.
"I don't give a damn about rankings put together by a bunch of trash," Taro said serenely. "Beauty is subjective, and as far as I'm concerned, Sitri-sama, you take first place. And not just at our school—not by a long shot."
"Um…" Sona caught Tsubaki's amused glance and blushed just a little. "Thank you, Chiba-kun."
"The truth weighs nothing, but to the weak it's heavier than a mountain," he said calmly. "Forgive me, but the changes taking place won't allow me to continue our conversation."
Silence settled over the student council room. He said nothing, his face frozen into a stony mask. Only his slow, deep breathing showed that he was still alive.
"The ego on that boy…" Tsubaki shook her head.
"Hmm?" Sona raised an eyebrow and took another sip of tea.
"The truth is heavier than a mountain to the weak, but he's so strong he can say it to your face without hesitation," her Queen said with a snort. "And he calls everyone trash every other sentence."
"He certainly thinks highly of himself," Sitri agreed. "I'll talk to him. Chiba Taro is about to discover a vast world inhabited by some very powerful beings."
"And if he doesn't listen?"
"Then someone he offends will give him a beating." Sona shrugged.
"He's smiling!" Shinra Tsubaki exclaimed suddenly. "He's listening in on us!"
Sure enough, a faint smile of anticipation had appeared on Taro's face. Sona smirked.
"Well, he said he couldn't continue our conversation. He never said he couldn't listen."
"You sly… demon!" The Queen shook her head in disapproval, though her eyes were laughing. Taro's smile grew a fraction wider.
"Don't flatter him just yet." Sona hid her own smile behind another sip of tea. He hadn't needed to let on that he could hear them, after all.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Sona rarely saw Tsubaki show such strong emotion. She had feelings, of course; Shinra-chan was simply very reserved. Loyal and caring, intelligent and serious—her Queen embodied the very qualities the heiress of House Sitri valued.
Yet now the astonishment on her closest aide's face was impossible to miss. Chiba-kun had begun accepting the Rook—the Evil Piece that had responded to him—but the process wasn't going at all as it usually did.
He had settled into the lotus position and taken the Rook in his hands. That was when things got strange. Over a minute had passed, and the process showed no sign of ending. The Piece itself was sinking into his body very, very slowly.
"I've never seen anything like it," Sona said, shaking her head as she sat down on the sofa and topped up her tea. "Let's wait and see."
Her new servant was a strange one—still human, for now. He kept surprising her even as he accepted the Evil Piece.
Despite her worries about the strange way Chiba's reincarnation was unfolding, a faint smile of triumph crossed Sona's face. They'd gotten lucky this time. The student council played an active role in school life, so she kept a list of every student who showed even a hint of promise.
Chiba-kun was on that list. She knew enough about him to see that he could be useful: in Hell as a servant of House Sitri, or in the human world working for the Shitori family. Someone so diligent and determined would always be in demand.
Sona was still inexperienced, but she worked hard to live up to her position as heiress. She took every opportunity to strengthen herself and her House, even when that meant offering the House's patronage to promising young mortals.
It had all begun quite recently. Sona had seen it herself: the quiet, composed, serious Chiba Taro-kun had returned to school after his "cold" practically glowing with life force. He had stood out before, but that seemed normal enough given his training under a renowned kendo master, his wushu classes, his healthy lifestyle, and his almost fanatical attention to his diet.
But no healthy lifestyle could explain such a leap. That much life force was beyond human limits. They had looked for an explanation and found none. An athletic young man had fallen ill, spent a week at home, and come back to school changed. He and his parents were entirely human, and nothing suspicious had been found in his home.
"Sitri-san," Tsubaki said, drawing her attention. "Why did he agree so quickly? He didn't even take time to… What's that?"
An expression of deep frustration crossed Taro's serene face. Gold flashed beneath his closed eyelids—brief and bright, like a lightbulb burning out.
"Blood?" Sona's voice grew worried. Blood was running from Taro's nose.
The heiress of House Sitri barely had time to frown before his face was serene again.
"Everything's fine, Sitri-sama," Chiba-kun said, sounding a little guilty. "I'm sorry I worried you."
"Chiba-kun?" Sona was startled to hear him speak. "What's going on? Why is it taking so long? What was that flash?"
"Everything is proceeding as it should. I have almost no control over it, but I've managed to slow it down. My body is my kingdom, but the power of this artifact, this Evil Piece, is like a great army inexorably conquering my lands. I have only enough strength to slow its advance. Incredible power."
"But why?" Tsubaki couldn't help asking. "You agreed to this!"
"Two reasons." Frustration crossed his face again. "My dantian, the seat of life, has begun producing altered qi. My body is changing along with it. The reincarnation is happening on every level. The array I built inside my head had one absolute requirement: it had to be constructed from qi native to my body. But the life energy I used to build it is now foreign to me. If I hadn't destroyed the array before the changes reached my brain, it would have killed me. Several months of work down the drain, unfortunately."
"And the second?" Sona made a mental note of what her… not-quite-servant had said and prompted him to continue.
"A thirsty man drinks from every spring." A delighted smile spread across Taro's face. "I thirst for strength, for power. And what's happening inside my body is the work of a truly great mind. I dare to hope I can grasp at least some of the principles and mechanisms at work within me."
"Oh?" Sona was surprised yet again. Slowing down his reincarnation so he could study it? That was… highly unusual.
"As for your question, Shinra-san, I thought it through carefully before I agreed." His smile faded. His expression was serene again, his voice measured and calm. "Your faction seemed the best fit for me. I intend to become strong. Very strong. But that's a difficult road. I'll need resources and training. I doubt I can get everything I need on my own, and even if I can, I won't be able to keep my growing power a secret. I'll need fights, chances to hone my skills, opponents worth facing. Someone will notice. Maybe not ordinary people, but one of the three factions certainly will."
Chiba Taro fell silent for several seconds. When Tsubaki was about to hurry him along, Sona stopped her with a hand on her arm. Whatever he was observing within himself seemed to demand his full attention.
"As I grow stronger, someone will notice," he continued as though he'd never paused. "And the factions won't be content to leave me alone. No matter what a powerful neutral promises, he could always side with an enemy. The Fallen seem the least appealing option, all else being equal. For one thing, I beat up the only black-winged bird I've met, and I don't even know his name."
"Yes, that was unwise," Tsubaki said with a hint of mockery. The remark was meant more for Sona than for the boy, who still sat with his eyes closed.
"Not at all," Chiba replied. "Two things led me to join that fight: the surveillance I'd sensed ever since you and Sitri-sama took such an interest in me in the school corridor, and Hyoudou Issei's sudden increase in strength. Someone noticed the changes in me at school, so there was a good chance it was you. Too many coincidences: my progress in cultivation, the unexplained attention of the school's most beautiful girls—who'd barely spared me an indifferent glance before—and then the surveillance. I concluded that the school had 'owners.' Fairly friendly ones, at that. I was being watched, but no one tried to pressure me. I appreciated that. An idiot might have taken offense at being watched, but I'm no idiot. I'd keep an eye on an unfamiliar young man on my turf too. I wouldn't want some stranger causing trouble in my own backyard."
Sona exchanged a look with Tsubaki. It was interesting to follow Taro's reasoning. He'd had few facts to work with, but his conclusions seemed sound.
"And then there was Issei. He'd changed. Grown stronger. I could sense he might become an opponent worth fighting one day. Not yet, of course—right now he's still trash—but the potential is there. And as I said, I want to grow stronger. So I decided to keep an eye on him, just as you'd kept an eye on me. That gave me two possibilities: the school's mysterious owners might approach me, or Hyoudou might lead me to the information I was after. Then that winged piece of trash in the stylish hat showed up. Perfect opportunity. Save Issei, get some answers, and do his patrons a favor. He had to have patrons. Someone like Issei couldn't have gained that kind of power on his own. Unless you count the power to get a hard-on."
"And what if he really had been on his own?" Sona asked.
"He couldn't have been. I heard what the winged man said, and I saw Issei's reaction. The Fallen asked Hyoudou-kun, 'Where's your master?' The feathered trash in the hat sounded certain. He assumed my classmate was either out wandering on his own or an Exile, while Issei just gaped at him. To be thrown out of somewhere, you have to have been there in the first place, and Hyoudou's dumb face made it perfectly clear he had no idea what was going on. So there was a chance he was a new initiate who didn't even know he'd joined anything. Anyone even slightly acquainted with that member of the Perverted Trio would have no trouble believing it."
He fell silent for a couple of seconds, frowned slightly, then raised his eyebrows in surprise.
"Marvelous…"
"What?" Tsubaki asked, confused.
"The changes. They're incredible…" He fell silent for a few more seconds, then his expression became serene once more. "Forgive me. I got distracted. Anyway, even if Issei had been on his own, saving him could still have gotten me information. Maybe he'd found some strange object or something. Either way, I stood to gain. But when you appeared in the park, everything fell into place. And after Sitri-sama explained things, I decided House Sitri was a perfect fit for me."
"And what makes you say that?" Sona asked with a faint smile.
"As I said, things are already strained between me and the Fallen. Cross them off. I know nothing about the angels, for one thing. For another, I'm not fond of men dressed in white. Too often, the only things setting them apart from everyone else are clean clothes and lofty slogans. Cross them off. You…" He paused, and Sona thought she caught the faintest mocking smile on his face. "The demons seemed the most appealing choice, based on what I know. You came to Issei's aid—a little late, granted, but you came. Gremory-san was very sweet with Hyoudou, fussing over him like that… Your teleportation magic impressed me. And you attend the same academy I do. You know where I live, who I am, who my parents are. You could make trouble for me. Besides, there are two groups operating here, and you don't seem to be enemies. And I'm happy with the terms you offered."
"Why Sitri and not Gremory?" Sona asked, taking a sip of tea.
"First, because Sitri-sama defeated Gremory-san in the battle for me. I heard your conversation, and now that I know about the Evil Pieces, I understand what it was about. An argument is a battle too, and whoever is stronger wins. All else being equal, I'd rather serve the stronger party. Second, that argument showed me your Houses had already reached an agreement about me. Gremory-san is unlikely to want to offend Sitri-sama. Third, there's Issei, who clearly serves House Gremory. He's a decent enough guy, even amusing, but if I spent too much time around him, I'm afraid I'd end up killing him during one of Hyoudou's bouts of terminal horniness. And fourth and finally, Sitri-sama ranks first when it comes to beauty. So, given a choice between her and Gremory-san, of course I choose Sitri Sona-sama."
"According to Kuoh Academy's unofficial beauty rankings, I'm in third place," Sona corrected him calmly.
"I don't give a damn about rankings put together by a bunch of trash," Taro said serenely. "Beauty is subjective, and as far as I'm concerned, Sitri-sama, you take first place. And not just at our school—not by a long shot."
"Um…" Sona caught Tsubaki's amused glance and blushed just a little. "Thank you, Chiba-kun."
"The truth weighs nothing, but to the weak it's heavier than a mountain," he said calmly. "Forgive me, but the changes taking place won't allow me to continue our conversation."
Silence settled over the student council room. He said nothing, his face frozen into a stony mask. Only his slow, deep breathing showed that he was still alive.
"The ego on that boy…" Tsubaki shook her head.
"Hmm?" Sona raised an eyebrow and took another sip of tea.
"The truth is heavier than a mountain to the weak, but he's so strong he can say it to your face without hesitation," her Queen said with a snort. "And he calls everyone trash every other sentence."
"He certainly thinks highly of himself," Sitri agreed. "I'll talk to him. Chiba Taro is about to discover a vast world inhabited by some very powerful beings."
"And if he doesn't listen?"
"Then someone he offends will give him a beating." Sona shrugged.
"He's smiling!" Shinra Tsubaki exclaimed suddenly. "He's listening in on us!"
Sure enough, a faint smile of anticipation had appeared on Taro's face. Sona smirked.
"Well, he said he couldn't continue our conversation. He never said he couldn't listen."
"You sly… demon!" The Queen shook her head in disapproval, though her eyes were laughing. Taro's smile grew a fraction wider.
"Don't flatter him just yet." Sona hid her own smile behind another sip of tea. He hadn't needed to let on that he could hear them, after all.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Chapter 6
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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Evil Pieces really are incredible, I thought as I came out of meditation. It was morning already. School soon, and after classes the student council was expecting me.
My homeroom teacher would be over the moon. At our academy, joining the student council was more prestigious than joining any club. "For educational purposes," the administration had handed the council a hefty share of authority over the school and now merely signed off on its decisions. I suspected those signatures were just for show. Houses Sitri and Gremory held the real power at Kuoh, period. And if there was any adult supervision, the adults involved certainly weren't human.
Unfortunately, Sitri-sama and I hadn't had much time for a proper conversation. By the time I'd finished reincarnating as a demon, it was pretty late for a high school student to be out. The president had sent me home, warning me that I'd have to get my parents' permission to stay out the following night.
"We'll sort that out later. For now, you'll have to manage on your own. I trust you'll emerge victorious from your battle with parental supervision," she said calmly, ending with a faintly mocking smile. She'd set aside the stack of papers she'd been working on while she and Shinra-san waited for me. "Demons are creatures of the night, so expect some discomfort in sunlight and greater strength from sunset to dawn. Your hearing will improve, and so will your eyesight. You'll be able to see easily in the dark, too. From now on, a lack of light will work in your favor. And one more thing: stay away from temples. Any of them. They're enemy territory. You could be attacked there, and whoever attacked you would be within their rights. That would cause problems for me, and they wouldn't end with the loss of a new servant!"
In just a few sentences, she'd taken a gentle jab at my ego, shown she had a taste for subtle humor, and covered what I needed to know for the following day. She hadn't buried me in details. She'd given me the essentials and pointed out the biggest danger.
Still… I really liked Sitri Sona. I'm not about to claim I've fallen madly in love at first sight. That's bullshit. In my first few lives, sure, I had my moments. But these days I'm past that sort of nonsense.
The madly part, I mean.
To me, love is made up of several things: liking a woman, finding her attractive, having compatible personalities and shared values, and respecting the way she lives and the choices she makes. You can't learn all that at "first sight." One look can only tell you whether you want to sleep with her.
Yes, yes, I'm boring and coldhearted. I don't give a damn. But of all the women I know, Sona comes closest to meeting my criteria for "serious consideration as a romantic prospect."
I chuckled under my breath as I got dressed after a quick shower. I liked the intelligence in Sona's violet eyes, her calm, pretty face, and its quiet, understated expressions. I liked what I'd seen of her character, too, and she had a good reputation.
It seemed I was slowly talking myself into pursuing Sitri Sona. I'd even started thinking about how useful a bride from a powerful family could be. All right. I'd see what she was like as I got to know her better.
"Mamoru!" I heard Mom shout. "Have you no shame, you rascal? That's Taro's bento! You know he makes his food to suit his diet, and you still keep stealing it!"
"But, Usagi, it's so good!" Dad protested, and I snorted. Of course it was. I wasn't going to eat "tasty, healthy meals made from stuff that isn't even food." After a shitload of reincarnations, I'd learned to make just about anything taste good enough to make you want to chew the chopsticks too.
"And how come our son cooks better than you do… and never makes enough?!"
You've got some fucking nerve, Dad, I thought as I headed downstairs. Every evening I make three bentos for the next day. Mom eats one, you devour the second, and then you start picking at the third to "just try this one little piece."
"Chiba Mamoru…" Mom's threatening voice didn't bode well for the old man. "In the name of the Moon, I'll punish you! Stay right there and face your fate!"
"Good morning, honored Mother and Father," I said, coming into the kitchen with a broad smile and saving Dad's ass. "I'll need to spend the night at school for student council business."
"Good morning, worthy son," Mom replied with exaggerated solemnity. She smiled at me and slipped a wooden spatula behind her back—the one she'd been about to use for an act of violence against the senior male of our household. Then my words sank in, and her eyebrows shot up.
"Student council?" Dad voiced her unasked question and waved hello. "Since when have you had anything to do with the student council?"
"I've joined. Well, I'll officially join today." I checked how hot the kettle was, nodded in satisfaction, and started brewing my special tea. "The president, Shitori-san, offered me a place, and I didn't turn her down. They've got a mountain of paperwork, so they could use the help. It'll be good experience for me, too."
"Shitori-san?" Dad straightened up. "That delicate-looking girl with violet eyes?"
"That's her." I put on a dreamy smile and narrowed my eyes slightly as I poured boiling water into the teapot. "She's beautiful. Smart, serious, responsible, too. She's the best student council president this school has ever had!"
"You…" Mom's jaw dropped, her eyes wide with genuine astonishment.
"Of course, son," Dad said much too quickly and with far too much enthusiasm. "If you need to work hard for your future and learn from such a fine young lady…" He glanced at Mom, widening his eyes slightly to hint at something. "…a young lady with SO many fine qualities, then, as your father, I give you my blessing."
"Oh, darling, you're absolutely right!" Mom said in a rush, trying to look composed again. Her delighted eyes and the smile she couldn't quite suppress gave her away. "Taro, if that's what you need to do, your father and I are behind you all the way. Show them how hard Chiba Taro can work! You've got this!"
Her fist shot into the air, and she struck a pose straight out of an anime pep talk. I chuckled under my breath. I really had lucked into wonderful parents this time around, and I did my best not to let them down.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked, taking out three cups. Purely a formality. Everyone loved my special tea. Grandpa out in the village practically lived on the supply I sent him.
"Taro, dear, who else is on your student council?" Mom asked cautiously.
"Shinra Tsubaki, Yura Tsubasa, Meguri Tomoe, Hanakai Momo, Kusaka Rei… and one guy, but I've forgotten his name," I lied. His name was Saji Genshiro. I poured the tea and slid the cups over to my parents.
The kitchen went quiet for about ten seconds, so I took a sip. Wonderful. An ordinary person would have a hard time believing what an experienced cultivator's care could do for ordinary tea bushes like the ones I'd planted in the yard. Weekly infusions of qi and the right nutrients had made the plants incredibly healthy. The tea was fragrant and exceptionally good for you.
If I ever decided to just get rich, I could buy a tea plantation and sell the leaves to the world's wealthiest connoisseurs for obscene amounts of money. I'd even sent a gift box of my tea to some sheikh in the UAE recently, as a joke. He'd mentioned on the TV news that the best tea in the world came from India. If the package never reached him, no big deal. If he tasted it, I doubted he'd stick to that opinion.
Come to think of it, I'd have to take some tea leaves with me. Let my new kin have a cup. Get them hooked on regular shipments, so to speak.
"I'll be right back," Dad said suddenly, rising from the table with a glazed look in his eyes. Mom and I watched him go, baffled. More puzzling still, once he left the kitchen, he practically sprinted toward their bedroom.
"So there are six girls on the student council and only two boys, including you?" Mom asked, turning a stunned gaze on me.
"Yeah, Mom. It's Kuoh. There are way more girls than boys here. The numbers are slowly evening out, but the girls will still outnumber us by a wide margin for at least another two years."
"And you're all spending the night at school?"
"I'm not sure." I rubbed my chin. "But I think so. They're swamped with work, and Shitori-san wanted to introduce me to the rest of the council."
Speaking of my chin, I really ought to decide on a look for after graduation. Grow a little beard and go for the "wise, kindly mentor" look? Go for the standard smooth-faced bishonen? Or maybe I was in the mood for something villainous this time. Bushy eyebrows, a menacing glare… Hmm.
Facial hair had started coming in, and I couldn't be bothered to shave. Should I get rid of it for good—the easy option—or make it disappear only temporarily, which would take more work?
"Son," Dad said, coming back into the kitchen. "Here, take this. Invite your new friends to a café or karaoke. Get to know them, make a good impression. It'll help you get off on the right foot with the group."
"Dad…" I stared at the thick stack of yen bills my old man had put on the table. That was enough to take the entire student council to a good restaurant with downright ugly prices. Twice. "Why? I have money."
"Taro, please don't argue." Dad sat back down and took a sip of tea, closing his eyes in contentment. "Humor your old man and take some good advice. You're the kind of son your mother and I could only have dreamed of. But you haven't had much luck with gi— with friends. I know you don't like wasting your time, but working on the student council will be excellent preparation for adult life."
"Your father's right," Mom said, nodding. "You'll finish school, then university, and after that you'll get a job. You'll have colleagues you'll work with for years, so knowing how to get along with people is important."
Husband and wife—two halves of the same devil. That was my parents, all right. Look at them, telling their son the hard truths about adult life with perfectly innocent faces. They'd worked training into the argument and thrown in a healthy dose of parental concern.
If the student council had been all boys, they wouldn't have stopped me from "helping the team" overnight. But there wouldn't have been all this song and dance, either. They'd waited so long for their clever plan with Kuoh Academy to pay off… I think Mom and Dad had even begun to suspect that trying to set me up, in any form, was a lost cause.
So my words about Shitori-san—all true, by the way; I really did think she was the most beautiful girl I knew, with a wonderful character to match—fell like blessed rain on the parched soil of my parents' hopes. I could practically hear what was going through their heads:
Taro's found a girl who's just as nuts as he is, obsessed with responsibility and taking everything seriously, and he actually likes her. We need to visit every temple and pray to every god we can think of so things work out between them—and they give us lots of little serious, responsible rugrats.
"I'll take this much," I said, picking up about a quarter of the stack. "Thanks, Dad. I'll try to invite them to a café, but not anytime soon. They're swamped, like I said."
"All right, all right." Dad smiled in relief. "I'm not saying you should drag them all there by the scruff of their necks today. You're a smart kid. You'll figure it out. Just don't forget."
"Deal." I nodded to my parents, finished my tea, and got up from the table. "I'd better get ready for school."
"Go on, sweetheart." Mom gave me a quick hug. "Have a good day."
"And a good night," Dad added, clapping me on the shoulder once she let go.
As I left the kitchen and headed upstairs to my room, my enhanced hearing caught Dad's quiet whisper.
"Usagi, tonight after work, I'll pick up some wine. You make a celebratory dinner… And you haven't stashed that sailor fuku we bought for cosplay too far away, have you?"
"Ooh… Does my Tuxedo Mask want to relive the old days?" Mom giggled. "Don't forget the rose…"
I stopped listening after that, chuckling to myself. Apparently my parents were in the mood to get up to a little mischief while their son worked surrounded by no fewer than six girls. I had a feeling there'd be more than one toast to future grandchildren in this house tonight.
Sunlight… yeah. The plan for the near future: once the storm of altered qi in my body settled and my dantian stopped pumping out energy at full throttle, I'd rebuild the Nine Eyes of the Sage with my new "native" qi. Then I could get back to leveling up and start attuning myself to the elements.
I knew a few weather techniques that I suspected would become favorites. That "gentle" sunshine felt bloody awful. Even after I formed the Mantle of Might, it was still unpleasant.
Being out in the light was miserable. The sun's rays felt almost solid, like coarse sandpaper—hot, coarse sandpaper dragged across hypersensitive skin. And that lovely little sun was clearly weakening my newly altered body.
In a dark room, I felt much stronger than I had before. Out in sunlight, though, my "power level" was only a little higher than it had been before I accepted the Rook. The Mantle canceled out roughly forty percent of the effect, but I still felt like crap.
But at night… whew. The cultivation potential of this world's demons was enormous. I hardly had words for it. If I'd accepted an Evil Piece as an ordinary mortal who'd never cultivated, I'd now be almost as strong as I'd been yesterday, before the Rook.
No wonder Kings sought out powerful beings for their Pieces, especially those with exceptional talents or unusual abilities. An Evil Piece didn't just turn you into a demon, already stronger than a human by default. It gave you one hell of a boost on top of that. And for a cultivator, the possibilities were staggering.
Picture two buildings, each a hundred stories tall. One stands at sea level and is… let's say three hundred meters high. The other is identical, but it stands on a hill five hundred meters high. Its roof ends up much higher above sea level. The same principle applies to cultivators.
I was much stronger than I'd been yesterday, and it hadn't cost me a thing! Figuratively speaking, a tall hill had sprung up beneath the "building" of my cultivation progress. I now stood a good deal higher above "sea level."
I think you can see where this is going. Once I regained my old level of strength—and it was considerable—I'd stand an entire hill's height above my former self.
So I had another goal for this life: get my hands on the secret of how Evil Pieces were made. Figure out the principles behind them, try to create a version using qi—even a weaker one—and carry the recipe for another booster into my future lives. Preferably one without that little sunlight problem.
If I failed to break through here, if enlightenment never came, a qi version of an Evil Piece would be just what the doctor ordered. Besides, more raw power never hurt. Cultivators don't turn down a boost. The greedy toad inside every one of us is far too eager to hoard every power-up it can get.
"Chiba-san!" I heard Issei call as I approached the academy. "Good morning!"
"Morning, Issei-kun." I raised a hand in greeting.
"I wanted to thank you for yesterday!" He gave me a bright, grateful smile. Well, look at that. The guy wasn't just funny and a pervert. He had some good qualities too.
"You're welcome. Glad you're okay." I gave him a small smile, and I wasn't even lying. Much.
Mostly, I didn't give a damn about him. He got on my nerves sometimes, sure, but I didn't want him dead. Well… most of the time, anyway. And without him and the other two morons, school would be a hell of a lot duller. They were always screwing up spectacularly or putting on a show, proudly broadcasting their perversions to everyone around them.
I even agreed with them to a point: sex was great, boobs were beautiful, and girls made the world a prettier place. But why take it so far? Sure, I had self-control and Issei and his friends didn't, but they weren't the only guys at school who wanted to date girls. Somehow, the others managed just fine.
My conclusion? The three of them were playing it up for shock value, acting out their own little pervert subculture. Goths wear black and go on about how life is all doom and gloom—or is that emos? Honestly, I can't remember. The Perverted Trio did the same thing with porn, carrying it around and making damn sure everyone knew it.
"Yo, Ise! What's the deal? You're hanging out with gloomy Chiba now?" Motohama popped out from around the nearest corner like a jack-in-the-box, Matsuda right behind him. They were Hyoudou's two buddies. I had no idea what House Gremory's newest servant had been about to tell me, but the moment was shot to hell.
"Did you finally teach him to appreciate the finer things in life?" Matsuda chimed in.
"Don't get your hopes up, guys." My lips curled into a smirk as I clapped a hand onto each of their shoulders, hard enough to make both perverts wince. "Keep me out of your horny little club. Have a nice day."
As I passed through the academy gates, I noticed a small group of girls standing near where we'd just talked. When they caught me looking, all four put on stern expressions of approval and gave me a thumbs-up. They did it in such perfect unison that they looked like soldiers saluting. The girls seemed surprised by their own timing and burst out laughing.
Well… the Perverted Trio didn't exactly have the best reputation at the academy. I'd clearly just earned myself a few popularity points.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
My homeroom teacher would be over the moon. At our academy, joining the student council was more prestigious than joining any club. "For educational purposes," the administration had handed the council a hefty share of authority over the school and now merely signed off on its decisions. I suspected those signatures were just for show. Houses Sitri and Gremory held the real power at Kuoh, period. And if there was any adult supervision, the adults involved certainly weren't human.
Unfortunately, Sitri-sama and I hadn't had much time for a proper conversation. By the time I'd finished reincarnating as a demon, it was pretty late for a high school student to be out. The president had sent me home, warning me that I'd have to get my parents' permission to stay out the following night.
"We'll sort that out later. For now, you'll have to manage on your own. I trust you'll emerge victorious from your battle with parental supervision," she said calmly, ending with a faintly mocking smile. She'd set aside the stack of papers she'd been working on while she and Shinra-san waited for me. "Demons are creatures of the night, so expect some discomfort in sunlight and greater strength from sunset to dawn. Your hearing will improve, and so will your eyesight. You'll be able to see easily in the dark, too. From now on, a lack of light will work in your favor. And one more thing: stay away from temples. Any of them. They're enemy territory. You could be attacked there, and whoever attacked you would be within their rights. That would cause problems for me, and they wouldn't end with the loss of a new servant!"
In just a few sentences, she'd taken a gentle jab at my ego, shown she had a taste for subtle humor, and covered what I needed to know for the following day. She hadn't buried me in details. She'd given me the essentials and pointed out the biggest danger.
Still… I really liked Sitri Sona. I'm not about to claim I've fallen madly in love at first sight. That's bullshit. In my first few lives, sure, I had my moments. But these days I'm past that sort of nonsense.
The madly part, I mean.
To me, love is made up of several things: liking a woman, finding her attractive, having compatible personalities and shared values, and respecting the way she lives and the choices she makes. You can't learn all that at "first sight." One look can only tell you whether you want to sleep with her.
Yes, yes, I'm boring and coldhearted. I don't give a damn. But of all the women I know, Sona comes closest to meeting my criteria for "serious consideration as a romantic prospect."
I chuckled under my breath as I got dressed after a quick shower. I liked the intelligence in Sona's violet eyes, her calm, pretty face, and its quiet, understated expressions. I liked what I'd seen of her character, too, and she had a good reputation.
It seemed I was slowly talking myself into pursuing Sitri Sona. I'd even started thinking about how useful a bride from a powerful family could be. All right. I'd see what she was like as I got to know her better.
"Mamoru!" I heard Mom shout. "Have you no shame, you rascal? That's Taro's bento! You know he makes his food to suit his diet, and you still keep stealing it!"
"But, Usagi, it's so good!" Dad protested, and I snorted. Of course it was. I wasn't going to eat "tasty, healthy meals made from stuff that isn't even food." After a shitload of reincarnations, I'd learned to make just about anything taste good enough to make you want to chew the chopsticks too.
"And how come our son cooks better than you do… and never makes enough?!"
You've got some fucking nerve, Dad, I thought as I headed downstairs. Every evening I make three bentos for the next day. Mom eats one, you devour the second, and then you start picking at the third to "just try this one little piece."
"Chiba Mamoru…" Mom's threatening voice didn't bode well for the old man. "In the name of the Moon, I'll punish you! Stay right there and face your fate!"
"Good morning, honored Mother and Father," I said, coming into the kitchen with a broad smile and saving Dad's ass. "I'll need to spend the night at school for student council business."
"Good morning, worthy son," Mom replied with exaggerated solemnity. She smiled at me and slipped a wooden spatula behind her back—the one she'd been about to use for an act of violence against the senior male of our household. Then my words sank in, and her eyebrows shot up.
"Student council?" Dad voiced her unasked question and waved hello. "Since when have you had anything to do with the student council?"
"I've joined. Well, I'll officially join today." I checked how hot the kettle was, nodded in satisfaction, and started brewing my special tea. "The president, Shitori-san, offered me a place, and I didn't turn her down. They've got a mountain of paperwork, so they could use the help. It'll be good experience for me, too."
"Shitori-san?" Dad straightened up. "That delicate-looking girl with violet eyes?"
"That's her." I put on a dreamy smile and narrowed my eyes slightly as I poured boiling water into the teapot. "She's beautiful. Smart, serious, responsible, too. She's the best student council president this school has ever had!"
"You…" Mom's jaw dropped, her eyes wide with genuine astonishment.
"Of course, son," Dad said much too quickly and with far too much enthusiasm. "If you need to work hard for your future and learn from such a fine young lady…" He glanced at Mom, widening his eyes slightly to hint at something. "…a young lady with SO many fine qualities, then, as your father, I give you my blessing."
"Oh, darling, you're absolutely right!" Mom said in a rush, trying to look composed again. Her delighted eyes and the smile she couldn't quite suppress gave her away. "Taro, if that's what you need to do, your father and I are behind you all the way. Show them how hard Chiba Taro can work! You've got this!"
Her fist shot into the air, and she struck a pose straight out of an anime pep talk. I chuckled under my breath. I really had lucked into wonderful parents this time around, and I did my best not to let them down.
"Would you like some tea?" I asked, taking out three cups. Purely a formality. Everyone loved my special tea. Grandpa out in the village practically lived on the supply I sent him.
"Taro, dear, who else is on your student council?" Mom asked cautiously.
"Shinra Tsubaki, Yura Tsubasa, Meguri Tomoe, Hanakai Momo, Kusaka Rei… and one guy, but I've forgotten his name," I lied. His name was Saji Genshiro. I poured the tea and slid the cups over to my parents.
The kitchen went quiet for about ten seconds, so I took a sip. Wonderful. An ordinary person would have a hard time believing what an experienced cultivator's care could do for ordinary tea bushes like the ones I'd planted in the yard. Weekly infusions of qi and the right nutrients had made the plants incredibly healthy. The tea was fragrant and exceptionally good for you.
If I ever decided to just get rich, I could buy a tea plantation and sell the leaves to the world's wealthiest connoisseurs for obscene amounts of money. I'd even sent a gift box of my tea to some sheikh in the UAE recently, as a joke. He'd mentioned on the TV news that the best tea in the world came from India. If the package never reached him, no big deal. If he tasted it, I doubted he'd stick to that opinion.
Come to think of it, I'd have to take some tea leaves with me. Let my new kin have a cup. Get them hooked on regular shipments, so to speak.
"I'll be right back," Dad said suddenly, rising from the table with a glazed look in his eyes. Mom and I watched him go, baffled. More puzzling still, once he left the kitchen, he practically sprinted toward their bedroom.
"So there are six girls on the student council and only two boys, including you?" Mom asked, turning a stunned gaze on me.
"Yeah, Mom. It's Kuoh. There are way more girls than boys here. The numbers are slowly evening out, but the girls will still outnumber us by a wide margin for at least another two years."
"And you're all spending the night at school?"
"I'm not sure." I rubbed my chin. "But I think so. They're swamped with work, and Shitori-san wanted to introduce me to the rest of the council."
Speaking of my chin, I really ought to decide on a look for after graduation. Grow a little beard and go for the "wise, kindly mentor" look? Go for the standard smooth-faced bishonen? Or maybe I was in the mood for something villainous this time. Bushy eyebrows, a menacing glare… Hmm.
Facial hair had started coming in, and I couldn't be bothered to shave. Should I get rid of it for good—the easy option—or make it disappear only temporarily, which would take more work?
"Son," Dad said, coming back into the kitchen. "Here, take this. Invite your new friends to a café or karaoke. Get to know them, make a good impression. It'll help you get off on the right foot with the group."
"Dad…" I stared at the thick stack of yen bills my old man had put on the table. That was enough to take the entire student council to a good restaurant with downright ugly prices. Twice. "Why? I have money."
"Taro, please don't argue." Dad sat back down and took a sip of tea, closing his eyes in contentment. "Humor your old man and take some good advice. You're the kind of son your mother and I could only have dreamed of. But you haven't had much luck with gi— with friends. I know you don't like wasting your time, but working on the student council will be excellent preparation for adult life."
"Your father's right," Mom said, nodding. "You'll finish school, then university, and after that you'll get a job. You'll have colleagues you'll work with for years, so knowing how to get along with people is important."
Husband and wife—two halves of the same devil. That was my parents, all right. Look at them, telling their son the hard truths about adult life with perfectly innocent faces. They'd worked training into the argument and thrown in a healthy dose of parental concern.
If the student council had been all boys, they wouldn't have stopped me from "helping the team" overnight. But there wouldn't have been all this song and dance, either. They'd waited so long for their clever plan with Kuoh Academy to pay off… I think Mom and Dad had even begun to suspect that trying to set me up, in any form, was a lost cause.
So my words about Shitori-san—all true, by the way; I really did think she was the most beautiful girl I knew, with a wonderful character to match—fell like blessed rain on the parched soil of my parents' hopes. I could practically hear what was going through their heads:
Taro's found a girl who's just as nuts as he is, obsessed with responsibility and taking everything seriously, and he actually likes her. We need to visit every temple and pray to every god we can think of so things work out between them—and they give us lots of little serious, responsible rugrats.
"I'll take this much," I said, picking up about a quarter of the stack. "Thanks, Dad. I'll try to invite them to a café, but not anytime soon. They're swamped, like I said."
"All right, all right." Dad smiled in relief. "I'm not saying you should drag them all there by the scruff of their necks today. You're a smart kid. You'll figure it out. Just don't forget."
"Deal." I nodded to my parents, finished my tea, and got up from the table. "I'd better get ready for school."
"Go on, sweetheart." Mom gave me a quick hug. "Have a good day."
"And a good night," Dad added, clapping me on the shoulder once she let go.
As I left the kitchen and headed upstairs to my room, my enhanced hearing caught Dad's quiet whisper.
"Usagi, tonight after work, I'll pick up some wine. You make a celebratory dinner… And you haven't stashed that sailor fuku we bought for cosplay too far away, have you?"
"Ooh… Does my Tuxedo Mask want to relive the old days?" Mom giggled. "Don't forget the rose…"
I stopped listening after that, chuckling to myself. Apparently my parents were in the mood to get up to a little mischief while their son worked surrounded by no fewer than six girls. I had a feeling there'd be more than one toast to future grandchildren in this house tonight.
Sunlight… yeah. The plan for the near future: once the storm of altered qi in my body settled and my dantian stopped pumping out energy at full throttle, I'd rebuild the Nine Eyes of the Sage with my new "native" qi. Then I could get back to leveling up and start attuning myself to the elements.
I knew a few weather techniques that I suspected would become favorites. That "gentle" sunshine felt bloody awful. Even after I formed the Mantle of Might, it was still unpleasant.
Being out in the light was miserable. The sun's rays felt almost solid, like coarse sandpaper—hot, coarse sandpaper dragged across hypersensitive skin. And that lovely little sun was clearly weakening my newly altered body.
In a dark room, I felt much stronger than I had before. Out in sunlight, though, my "power level" was only a little higher than it had been before I accepted the Rook. The Mantle canceled out roughly forty percent of the effect, but I still felt like crap.
But at night… whew. The cultivation potential of this world's demons was enormous. I hardly had words for it. If I'd accepted an Evil Piece as an ordinary mortal who'd never cultivated, I'd now be almost as strong as I'd been yesterday, before the Rook.
No wonder Kings sought out powerful beings for their Pieces, especially those with exceptional talents or unusual abilities. An Evil Piece didn't just turn you into a demon, already stronger than a human by default. It gave you one hell of a boost on top of that. And for a cultivator, the possibilities were staggering.
Picture two buildings, each a hundred stories tall. One stands at sea level and is… let's say three hundred meters high. The other is identical, but it stands on a hill five hundred meters high. Its roof ends up much higher above sea level. The same principle applies to cultivators.
I was much stronger than I'd been yesterday, and it hadn't cost me a thing! Figuratively speaking, a tall hill had sprung up beneath the "building" of my cultivation progress. I now stood a good deal higher above "sea level."
I think you can see where this is going. Once I regained my old level of strength—and it was considerable—I'd stand an entire hill's height above my former self.
So I had another goal for this life: get my hands on the secret of how Evil Pieces were made. Figure out the principles behind them, try to create a version using qi—even a weaker one—and carry the recipe for another booster into my future lives. Preferably one without that little sunlight problem.
If I failed to break through here, if enlightenment never came, a qi version of an Evil Piece would be just what the doctor ordered. Besides, more raw power never hurt. Cultivators don't turn down a boost. The greedy toad inside every one of us is far too eager to hoard every power-up it can get.
"Chiba-san!" I heard Issei call as I approached the academy. "Good morning!"
"Morning, Issei-kun." I raised a hand in greeting.
"I wanted to thank you for yesterday!" He gave me a bright, grateful smile. Well, look at that. The guy wasn't just funny and a pervert. He had some good qualities too.
"You're welcome. Glad you're okay." I gave him a small smile, and I wasn't even lying. Much.
Mostly, I didn't give a damn about him. He got on my nerves sometimes, sure, but I didn't want him dead. Well… most of the time, anyway. And without him and the other two morons, school would be a hell of a lot duller. They were always screwing up spectacularly or putting on a show, proudly broadcasting their perversions to everyone around them.
I even agreed with them to a point: sex was great, boobs were beautiful, and girls made the world a prettier place. But why take it so far? Sure, I had self-control and Issei and his friends didn't, but they weren't the only guys at school who wanted to date girls. Somehow, the others managed just fine.
My conclusion? The three of them were playing it up for shock value, acting out their own little pervert subculture. Goths wear black and go on about how life is all doom and gloom—or is that emos? Honestly, I can't remember. The Perverted Trio did the same thing with porn, carrying it around and making damn sure everyone knew it.
"Yo, Ise! What's the deal? You're hanging out with gloomy Chiba now?" Motohama popped out from around the nearest corner like a jack-in-the-box, Matsuda right behind him. They were Hyoudou's two buddies. I had no idea what House Gremory's newest servant had been about to tell me, but the moment was shot to hell.
"Did you finally teach him to appreciate the finer things in life?" Matsuda chimed in.
"Don't get your hopes up, guys." My lips curled into a smirk as I clapped a hand onto each of their shoulders, hard enough to make both perverts wince. "Keep me out of your horny little club. Have a nice day."
As I passed through the academy gates, I noticed a small group of girls standing near where we'd just talked. When they caught me looking, all four put on stern expressions of approval and gave me a thumbs-up. They did it in such perfect unison that they looked like soldiers saluting. The girls seemed surprised by their own timing and burst out laughing.
Well… the Perverted Trio didn't exactly have the best reputation at the academy. I'd clearly just earned myself a few popularity points.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Chapter 7
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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Just as I'd predicted, my homeroom teacher was over the moon. Sure, having one of her students join the prestigious student council reflected well on her as a teacher, but she was far happier that I was finally socializing. A good teacher and a good person.
I didn't have to tell her in person; the council would have notified her anyway. But it felt like the right thing to do. Besides, it was nice to give her something to smile about. She'd always been kind to me and really worried about my lack of friends.
The Japanese are a very social people—almost as though it's an official requirement. Introverts quickly earn a reputation as oddballs here, and having no friends at school is a common cause of depression and psychological trauma. Personally, I didn't give a damn. Keeping friends around just for appearances would only get in my way.
It's just… what am I supposed to talk about with kids my physical age who don't share my interests? Manga and anime, maybe, but why the hell would I bother? A complete waste of time.
My parents know more about that stuff than most of my peers. The last time Dad and I discussed Evangelion, for instance, he came out with such a mind-bending theory about what the anime was trying to say that I started looking at Ikari Shinji differently. And the entire family wholeheartedly agreed that Ikari Gendo was a four-eyed dickhead. So no, I don't need my peers for discussions of Japanese "folk art."
The student council and its members, though, were another matter entirely. First, they were demons who knew more than I did about a world that was still new to me. Second, they were strong fighters, and I could pick up some useful skills from them. Third, they were all mages, able to wield demonic power to varying degrees. Fourth, they were people I could speak to far more freely than anyone else.
That alone made socializing with the student council worth my time.
"Good morning." Shinra Tsubaki greeted me with a measured nod and a hint of a smile as we crossed paths on my way to the student council offices.
"Good morning, Shinra-san." I returned her nod.
"Just Tsubaki, Taro-kun." An almost imperceptible smile touched her stern face as my eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're part of House Sitri now. That means a great deal to those of us who serve Sitri Sona-san. We call each other by our given names, so if you don't mind…"
"Of course, Tsubaki-san. I understand. That's fine with me."
"Some of us are closer to House Sitri than to our own families." Walking beside me, she looked me straight in the eye, her smile gone. "Some have no loved ones left in the mortal world at all. In time, you'll hear some of your new companions' stories, but please, Taro-kun, don't press them. For some, the past is painful to remember. Just… be tactful."
"I'm the very soul of tact, Tsubaki-san." I allowed myself a slight smile. "Ask anyone—Chiba Taro has never once been caught prying into anyone's private life."
"Of course." She gave a quiet, disapproving snort. "The great Chiba Taro-san wouldn't concern himself with the private lives of mere trash, would he?"
"Our Lady's Queen is remarkably perceptive," I acknowledged with a perfectly straight face. "As your enemies in the Orthodox Church might put it, I'm not looking for godparents for my kids. Give it another couple of years, and I'll have forgotten most of the people around me. Anyone I happen to run into later in life will remember me as that serious, reliable, polite but unsociable student from Kuoh Academy."
"Our enemies, Taro-kun. Get used to it." She gave me an unreadable look over her glasses.
"Ours," I agreed. "By the way, Tsubaki-san, why do you wear glasses? Do you have poor eyesight?"
"Hmm…" Demon or not, a girl was still a girl. Shinra Tsubaki looked away, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face. It was subtle, but rather cute. "My eyesight is perfectly fine. The glasses are just an accessory. And before you ask, Sona-san's glasses are just for looks too."
"They really suit you both," I said, and meant it. Girls in glasses look absolutely gorgeous, as far as I'm concerned. Provided the glasses actually suit them, of course, and don't look utterly ridiculous.
"We know." She lifted her chin proudly, then gave me a small nod of thanks as I opened the door to the student council's reception area for her.
The reception area was fairly small: a little sofa, a couple of armchairs, a coffee table for visitors, and a secretary's desk. The secretary was a blond guy my age—Saji Genshiro. Aside from his name and age, all I knew was that he'd joined the student council just a couple of days earlier.
"Good morning, Tsubaki-san." He half rose from his chair, smiling politely at Shinra-san before looking at me in mild surprise.
"Good morning." The vice-president's expression remained stern, but her eyes were warm. "Genshiro-kun, meet Chiba Taro, Sitri-sama's newest servant, a Rook. Taro-kun, this is Saji Genshiro, a Pawn. He joined House Sitri only a couple of days ago, a little before you did, so you'll be learning a great deal together about the world that's just opened up to you. I hope you'll become good friends and comrades."
We exchanged polite bows, and I followed the vice-president, smiling to myself. Genshiro looked a little shell-shocked after our introduction. I could hardly blame him. An ordinary, perfectly normal morning—pardon the redundancy—and suddenly gloomy Chiba was his new teammate.
Sure, I wasn't as well known at Kuoh Academy as the Perverted Trio, let alone the resident heartthrob, Kiba Yuuto, but my antisocial streak did make me stand out a little.
For all my reputation as a withdrawn introvert, a few local punks had taken some hard hits to the kidneys and faces after trying to impress the girls by picking on the quiet kid. The usual little shits who need to bully someone weaker to feel strong. Image or no image, I wasn't about to let every piece of trash walk all over me.
The adjoining room held the president's desk, a large table apparently used for council meetings, and several desks for the other members. Only one girl was there: a rather cute servant of House Sitri with white hair, sorting through some papers with a thoughtful expression.
"Good morning, Momo," the vice-president said warmly, and the girl responded in kind. "Meet our newest member—Chiba Taro, a Rook. Taro-kun, this is Hanakai Momo. She's a Bishop. She's kind, sensible, and always happy to help. If you have any questions or run into trouble when I'm not around, don't hesitate to ask her."
"It's nice to meet you, Taro-kun." Momo gave me a small, friendly smile and bowed in greeting. "I hope we can be friends."
"I'm sure we will, senpai." I returned her bow, wondering how someone so beautiful, with such distinctive looks, had escaped my notice until now. "Please take good care of me."
Then came a bit of paperwork to make me an official member of the student council's disciplinary committee, under the supervision of Sona-san's other Rook.
While we dealt with the bureaucratic formalities, Momo-san told us that our lady had gone to the Occult Research Club to meet with Rias-senpai and wouldn't be back at the student council offices before classes started.
"Sitri-san seemed upset and preoccupied," Momo told us. "She didn't even have any tea. Speaking of which, Tsubaki-san, Taro-kun, would you like some? There's still time…"
"I'd love some, Momo." The vice-president nodded.
"Momo-san." I stopped her as she headed for the electric kettle in the corner and pulled a small metal tin from my blazer pocket. "Allow me to treat you to a rather unusual tea."
"We have the finest tea there is!" Shinra-san's lips twitched in amusement. "You'll have a hard time impressing anyone here."
"Oooh." I gave her an enigmatic smile in return. "Believe me, Tsubaki-san, you've never tried tea like this, and I doubt you'll ever find it anywhere else."
"Hmm, hmm. All right! Challenge accepted, Taro-kun! Momo, let's taste it and deliver our verdict!" The vice-president's mood had definitely improved, though you'd have been hard-pressed to notice. "Just remember, kohai: Momo and I take our tea very seriously, so don't expect us to go easy on you!"
The tea was ready in no time, and we sat down at the meeting table to partake of this fine beverage. Well, I just wanted a cup of tea before class, while the girls were clearly looking forward to a laugh at my expense for being so full of myself. Tsubaki, who knew me a little better, apparently planned to take me down a peg, while Momo seemed more interested in smoothing things over. At least, she kept giving me sympathetic looks and shooting pleading glances at the vice-president.
"Mmm…" Shinra Tsubaki murmured thoughtfully. "Actually, this is quite good!"
Hanakai said nothing, but her eyes, half-closed in bliss, spoke for themselves. I just snorted softly into my cup, glancing at the Queen.
"All right, all right." She adjusted her glasses. "I admit it. The tea's wonderful. But you know what's coming next, don't you?"
"A thank-you?" I raised my right eyebrow, deadpan.
"Yes, Taro-kun, thank you so much!" Momo snapped out of her reverie. "Where did you get this amazing tea? The flavor is incredible. Bold, refreshing, with just the right amount of bite. And it perks you up after just a couple of sips! My morning coffee doesn't wake me up this well!"
"An interrogation," Tsubaki said, glancing sideways at Momo. "You've just served two devoted tea drinkers a brew they find more than acceptable. Hand over your supplier's contact details."
"Yes, yes!" Momo chimed in with a cute giggle. "Give us your dealer's number!"
"My dear ladies." I steepled my fingers and leaned forward over the table, hiding the lower half of my face behind my hands. I met each girl's eyes in turn, perfectly serious. "Believe it or not, I produce it myself."
"What do you mean?" The white-haired girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You have your own tea business?"
"Of course." I kept a perfectly straight face. "The Chiba family owns extensive tea plantations… covering a few square meters of our yard. You might call us moderately big players in the industry."
"You're kidding, right?" Tsubaki adjusted her glasses in disbelief. "You grow this wonderful stuff in your yard?"
"That's right, Tsubaki-san." I dropped the act and smiled at the girls before taking a sip of tea. "No chemicals. I grow it and process it myself. As for the variety… you could say I developed that myself too. You won't find tea like this anywhere else. I only make it for us at home and for my grandfather. I suspect my father sneaks some out as gifts for his bosses, but to my shame, I've never managed to catch him in the act."
"A man of many talents." The vice-president shook her head. I couldn't tell whether she meant it or was being subtly sarcastic. "You play sports, get top grades, grow tea, and beat up Fallen by night. I'm almost afraid to ask what other surprises you have in store."
"I'm proficient with a wide range of melee, throwing, and ranged weapons, apart from modern ones. I can sew, make most of the weapons I use, and cook extremely well. I know a fair bit about medicine, exotic pharmacology, alchemy, and jewelry making. I play the guzheng, guqin, pipa…" I thought for a couple of seconds, then chuckled at the girls' astonished faces. "Anyway, I have quite a few skills, and listing them all is starting to sound an awful lot like bragging. I'll spare you my résumé, too. It would take up the entire table."
"To be honest, Taro-kun, I find all that a little hard to believe," Tsubaki said carefully. She clearly wanted to say something like "You're full of it," but good manners and her upbringing kept her in check.
"I don't blame you in the slightest, but I can demonstrate everything except the cooking." I hid another smile behind my teacup.
"Why not the cooking?" Momo asked before the vice-president could speak.
"I'll only cook for my wife."
"Starting out as a demon is just like being back in the good old sect," I grumbled, heading for the nearest sporting goods store to buy a bike. "Doing all sorts of crap for nothing."
No, these were definitely the wrong sort of demons. What self-respecting demon from a cultivation world would make his servant deliver advertising flyers? It's tradition, you see. Everyone's been through it, you see. Fine, they weren't exactly advertising flyers, more like single-use summoning rituals activated by a strong desire, but still! Hello, I'm an ancient cultivator with God knows how many lifetimes behind me, a demon, a servant to the heiress of a Great House… and a delivery boy for plain old junk mail. Just what I'd always dreamed of (not really). Honestly, it was so absurd I wasn't even angry. I just wanted to laugh my ass off. At least I'd only be stuck with this nonsense for a week.
My fellow demons are pretty much keeping up with the times, too. Sinister grimoires? Summoning rituals? Studying demonology? Fuck all that! They'll drop a slip of paper in your mailbox. Make a wish on it, and if you want it badly enough, a demon will show up to sign a contract.
"Casuals everywhere! Everywhere!" I shook my head. "Just think about it! Casual Satanists! This is surreal!"
"Chiba-san!" Issei called from behind me.
"Oh, Issei-kun. How's it going?" A quick look around confirmed that his buddies were nowhere nearby. "Off to deliver flyers too?"
"Yeah! I'm heading home for my bike, then I'll come back, set up the GPS, grab the flyers, and get going." He sighed. "I thought it would be something…"
"More exciting?"
"Yeah, I guess." Hyoudou scratched the back of his head. "Chiba-san, I never properly thanked you for yesterday. So much happened all at once, and this morning Matsuda…"
"Oh, don't worry about it, Issei-kun." I waved off his thanks. "I helped you out, that's all. You can return the favor sometime, and we'll be even. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on. After all, Sitri-sama and Gremory-san are on good terms, from what I understand."
"I guess. It blew my mind finding out we've got actual demons at our school! And it turns out I was killed by a Fallen Angel! The guy you beat up was a Fallen too! And the club president, Rias-senpai, is a demon! And the student council president, Sona-senpai…"
"Sitri-senpai," I corrected him. This dimwit hadn't earned the privilege of calling my lady by her given name. I did make a mental note that someone had apparently managed to kill him, though.
"Right, right! Sitri-senpai's a demon too! And Koneko-chan, and Akeno-san, and that bastard Kiba! And the entire student council!!!"
"Issei-kun." I sighed, already getting tired of his company. "Shouldn't you be hurrying home to fetch your pedal-powered steed?"
"But I live that way," he said innocently, waving a hand straight ahead. "Where are you headed?"
"To the store for a bike." I sighed in resignation. Besides the cash Dad had given me that morning, I had my "junior" debit card. I hardly ever used it, so I'd saved up enough pocket money to buy a scooter. My folks were in for a surprise when they got the purchase notification for my new set of wheels. They'd definitely think I was planning to show off for the cute girl I liked.
After waving goodbye to Issei… Ise, right. He'd asked me to just call him Ise. I'd saved his life, after all, so that made me a real friend. Ah, well…
Anyway, once I'd waved goodbye to my new buddy—Leviathan-sama spare me another one like him—I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been chattering away… like Mom on the phone with a friend. Nonstop, raving about Rias-senpai and her "huuuge boobs" (each time, I bowed to passersby and apologized for my classmate). About Akeno-san, the ideal Japanese woman, whose breasts were smaller than the Occult Research Club president's, of course, but still absolutely magnificent (another bow, another apology). About Koneko-chan, so petite and kawaii, but stern and quiet. Still, she was just—wow! Then came a crude remark about her body (this time I apologized and smacked him on the back of the head, because Koneko-chan was far too sweet for him to talk about her like that). As for Kiba-kun, though, Hyoudou kept it short and eloquent: "Asshole."
But I endured it all. In the name of Sitri-sama, yes. And no, I hadn't turned into some idiot drooling over her like a doggo eyeing a marrow bone. This was just… part of my "default settings."
Who could a Great Man like me possibly serve? Only a Great Lady. I didn't feel demeaned, because Sitri Sona was first in line to inherit a Great House. A princess, you might say. Her own older sister was Leviathan. One of the Satans—the Kings of the Underworld. Yes, I needed her House's resources, and yes, I would serve in return. Serve faithfully and honorably. Besides, the others on the student council were very fond of our lady. In cultivation worlds, you often got hypocrisy along the lines of "The Great Senior Master puts the gods to shame with his wisdom!" when the master could hear, and "Lucky piece of trash, the fucking bastard" when he wasn't around.
There was none of that here. Sitri-san herself was calm and courteous with us. She met each person's gaze warmly, her beautiful eyes a little sad and tired. The girls responded in kind, speaking to her with genuine respect and readily taking on whatever tasks she gave them. I liked the atmosphere in our little clan.
And I liked the challenge. Yes, the challenge. Hmm… a test of sorts, perhaps? Pfft… Who was I kidding? Pride. The plain old pride of an ancient Practitioner. I cannot be a bad servant! I can't do a bad job of anything I take on. I am the Best. And the woman I serve must be Great. Her House must be the Strongest. And so it shall be.
When I reach the highest ranks of the demon world, people will speak of me as the Greatest—a man who came from the Greatest House, where he served the Greatest Lady. And so it shall be.
My pride won't let me bow to Sitri-sama and then badmouth her behind her back. Anyone who insults his Master out of mindless pride is trash. Because he doesn't understand that by belittling his lord, he diminishes himself.
People here understand that. In Japan, I mean. Many people, my parents included, give their work everything they've got, with enthusiasm and faith in its value. They take pride in what they achieve together and in their own part in it. For instance, I've never once heard Dad badmouth his company or Mom complain about housework. After nearly twenty years with the company, Dad has become a respected man whose words carry weight. Mom wouldn't even think of complaining: Dad and I both treat her with respect, and we've never taken all she does to keep our home running for granted. Her home is where she fights her endless battle, just as Dad wages his daily battles at work.
Yes, they're ordinary people, but decent and proud. In their own way. Their pride has a touch of old Japan about it—the romantic image people have when they don't know about… the less pleasant side of that era. Legendary loyalty unto death, brave warriors, the noblest and wisest of lords.
Yeah, yeah, of course—if I posted anything like that on a forum, it'd start a flame war. The experts would come crawling out of the woodwork. Foreign ones eager to open my eyes to the horrors of the nation I belong to in this life, and locals who, for some reason, hate their own country with all their hearts. I could explain a thousand times that I meant the romanticized image, but would people who can't stop spewing bile at everyone around them give a damn?
Besides, it's easy to draw parallels between feudal Japan and modern businesses. Employer–employee relations here are still… rather interesting. For all the advanced technology, this whole "loyalty to the corporation" thing still smacks of feudalism. Some employees spend their entire working lives at the same company. Then again… I'm used to that sort of thing. I've taken entire dynasties under my wing, and in my early lives I served sects or noble houses until the day I died. So, nothing out of the ordinary.
My idle musings vanished as the discomfort from the sun seemed to intensify. But that couldn't be right. The sunset was painting the horizon orange, and the sensation was… hmm… something like spiritual pressure? Where was it coming from?
"No, it can't be!" A man's panicked voice caught my attention from about thirty meters away. I spotted a figure in a coat and a stylish hat… Well, if it wasn't Black Rooster-san! And his mug was positively glowing with health, as if I hadn't beaten it black and blue just yesterday.
Hmm… This was House Gremory's territory, so throwing my weight around here wasn't a good idea. Besides, there was an unwritten rule against starting fights unless an enemy set foot on the grounds of your headquarters. Issei could easily have avoided this guy's attack by saying which House he belonged to. Sitri-sama had explained that he simply hadn't known he'd been reincarnated, and the Fallen might have mistaken his confusion for the fear of an exile with no House to back him up. And there were too many people around… Hmm… But a little joke was fair game!
"ORA!" I called out to the bird in the stylish hat, beaming and waving as if greeting an old friend.
Heh… I hadn't seen an "About-face!" executed that crisply or that quickly in ages. The Fallen beat a hasty retreat, and I strained my ears to catch his muttering: "He's a demon now, too. Nooo, Raynare, you're on your own. I'm out of here!" Interesting. Who was this Raynare guy? Or girl? Ah, never mind. One little act of spite, and I'd paid the world back for saddling me with that motormouth Issei. I felt better already.
Original Russian story
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I didn't have to tell her in person; the council would have notified her anyway. But it felt like the right thing to do. Besides, it was nice to give her something to smile about. She'd always been kind to me and really worried about my lack of friends.
The Japanese are a very social people—almost as though it's an official requirement. Introverts quickly earn a reputation as oddballs here, and having no friends at school is a common cause of depression and psychological trauma. Personally, I didn't give a damn. Keeping friends around just for appearances would only get in my way.
It's just… what am I supposed to talk about with kids my physical age who don't share my interests? Manga and anime, maybe, but why the hell would I bother? A complete waste of time.
My parents know more about that stuff than most of my peers. The last time Dad and I discussed Evangelion, for instance, he came out with such a mind-bending theory about what the anime was trying to say that I started looking at Ikari Shinji differently. And the entire family wholeheartedly agreed that Ikari Gendo was a four-eyed dickhead. So no, I don't need my peers for discussions of Japanese "folk art."
The student council and its members, though, were another matter entirely. First, they were demons who knew more than I did about a world that was still new to me. Second, they were strong fighters, and I could pick up some useful skills from them. Third, they were all mages, able to wield demonic power to varying degrees. Fourth, they were people I could speak to far more freely than anyone else.
That alone made socializing with the student council worth my time.
"Good morning." Shinra Tsubaki greeted me with a measured nod and a hint of a smile as we crossed paths on my way to the student council offices.
"Good morning, Shinra-san." I returned her nod.
"Just Tsubaki, Taro-kun." An almost imperceptible smile touched her stern face as my eyebrows rose in surprise. "You're part of House Sitri now. That means a great deal to those of us who serve Sitri Sona-san. We call each other by our given names, so if you don't mind…"
"Of course, Tsubaki-san. I understand. That's fine with me."
"Some of us are closer to House Sitri than to our own families." Walking beside me, she looked me straight in the eye, her smile gone. "Some have no loved ones left in the mortal world at all. In time, you'll hear some of your new companions' stories, but please, Taro-kun, don't press them. For some, the past is painful to remember. Just… be tactful."
"I'm the very soul of tact, Tsubaki-san." I allowed myself a slight smile. "Ask anyone—Chiba Taro has never once been caught prying into anyone's private life."
"Of course." She gave a quiet, disapproving snort. "The great Chiba Taro-san wouldn't concern himself with the private lives of mere trash, would he?"
"Our Lady's Queen is remarkably perceptive," I acknowledged with a perfectly straight face. "As your enemies in the Orthodox Church might put it, I'm not looking for godparents for my kids. Give it another couple of years, and I'll have forgotten most of the people around me. Anyone I happen to run into later in life will remember me as that serious, reliable, polite but unsociable student from Kuoh Academy."
"Our enemies, Taro-kun. Get used to it." She gave me an unreadable look over her glasses.
"Ours," I agreed. "By the way, Tsubaki-san, why do you wear glasses? Do you have poor eyesight?"
"Hmm…" Demon or not, a girl was still a girl. Shinra Tsubaki looked away, a flicker of embarrassment crossing her face. It was subtle, but rather cute. "My eyesight is perfectly fine. The glasses are just an accessory. And before you ask, Sona-san's glasses are just for looks too."
"They really suit you both," I said, and meant it. Girls in glasses look absolutely gorgeous, as far as I'm concerned. Provided the glasses actually suit them, of course, and don't look utterly ridiculous.
"We know." She lifted her chin proudly, then gave me a small nod of thanks as I opened the door to the student council's reception area for her.
The reception area was fairly small: a little sofa, a couple of armchairs, a coffee table for visitors, and a secretary's desk. The secretary was a blond guy my age—Saji Genshiro. Aside from his name and age, all I knew was that he'd joined the student council just a couple of days earlier.
"Good morning, Tsubaki-san." He half rose from his chair, smiling politely at Shinra-san before looking at me in mild surprise.
"Good morning." The vice-president's expression remained stern, but her eyes were warm. "Genshiro-kun, meet Chiba Taro, Sitri-sama's newest servant, a Rook. Taro-kun, this is Saji Genshiro, a Pawn. He joined House Sitri only a couple of days ago, a little before you did, so you'll be learning a great deal together about the world that's just opened up to you. I hope you'll become good friends and comrades."
We exchanged polite bows, and I followed the vice-president, smiling to myself. Genshiro looked a little shell-shocked after our introduction. I could hardly blame him. An ordinary, perfectly normal morning—pardon the redundancy—and suddenly gloomy Chiba was his new teammate.
Sure, I wasn't as well known at Kuoh Academy as the Perverted Trio, let alone the resident heartthrob, Kiba Yuuto, but my antisocial streak did make me stand out a little.
For all my reputation as a withdrawn introvert, a few local punks had taken some hard hits to the kidneys and faces after trying to impress the girls by picking on the quiet kid. The usual little shits who need to bully someone weaker to feel strong. Image or no image, I wasn't about to let every piece of trash walk all over me.
The adjoining room held the president's desk, a large table apparently used for council meetings, and several desks for the other members. Only one girl was there: a rather cute servant of House Sitri with white hair, sorting through some papers with a thoughtful expression.
"Good morning, Momo," the vice-president said warmly, and the girl responded in kind. "Meet our newest member—Chiba Taro, a Rook. Taro-kun, this is Hanakai Momo. She's a Bishop. She's kind, sensible, and always happy to help. If you have any questions or run into trouble when I'm not around, don't hesitate to ask her."
"It's nice to meet you, Taro-kun." Momo gave me a small, friendly smile and bowed in greeting. "I hope we can be friends."
"I'm sure we will, senpai." I returned her bow, wondering how someone so beautiful, with such distinctive looks, had escaped my notice until now. "Please take good care of me."
Then came a bit of paperwork to make me an official member of the student council's disciplinary committee, under the supervision of Sona-san's other Rook.
While we dealt with the bureaucratic formalities, Momo-san told us that our lady had gone to the Occult Research Club to meet with Rias-senpai and wouldn't be back at the student council offices before classes started.
"Sitri-san seemed upset and preoccupied," Momo told us. "She didn't even have any tea. Speaking of which, Tsubaki-san, Taro-kun, would you like some? There's still time…"
"I'd love some, Momo." The vice-president nodded.
"Momo-san." I stopped her as she headed for the electric kettle in the corner and pulled a small metal tin from my blazer pocket. "Allow me to treat you to a rather unusual tea."
"We have the finest tea there is!" Shinra-san's lips twitched in amusement. "You'll have a hard time impressing anyone here."
"Oooh." I gave her an enigmatic smile in return. "Believe me, Tsubaki-san, you've never tried tea like this, and I doubt you'll ever find it anywhere else."
"Hmm, hmm. All right! Challenge accepted, Taro-kun! Momo, let's taste it and deliver our verdict!" The vice-president's mood had definitely improved, though you'd have been hard-pressed to notice. "Just remember, kohai: Momo and I take our tea very seriously, so don't expect us to go easy on you!"
The tea was ready in no time, and we sat down at the meeting table to partake of this fine beverage. Well, I just wanted a cup of tea before class, while the girls were clearly looking forward to a laugh at my expense for being so full of myself. Tsubaki, who knew me a little better, apparently planned to take me down a peg, while Momo seemed more interested in smoothing things over. At least, she kept giving me sympathetic looks and shooting pleading glances at the vice-president.
"Mmm…" Shinra Tsubaki murmured thoughtfully. "Actually, this is quite good!"
Hanakai said nothing, but her eyes, half-closed in bliss, spoke for themselves. I just snorted softly into my cup, glancing at the Queen.
"All right, all right." She adjusted her glasses. "I admit it. The tea's wonderful. But you know what's coming next, don't you?"
"A thank-you?" I raised my right eyebrow, deadpan.
"Yes, Taro-kun, thank you so much!" Momo snapped out of her reverie. "Where did you get this amazing tea? The flavor is incredible. Bold, refreshing, with just the right amount of bite. And it perks you up after just a couple of sips! My morning coffee doesn't wake me up this well!"
"An interrogation," Tsubaki said, glancing sideways at Momo. "You've just served two devoted tea drinkers a brew they find more than acceptable. Hand over your supplier's contact details."
"Yes, yes!" Momo chimed in with a cute giggle. "Give us your dealer's number!"
"My dear ladies." I steepled my fingers and leaned forward over the table, hiding the lower half of my face behind my hands. I met each girl's eyes in turn, perfectly serious. "Believe it or not, I produce it myself."
"What do you mean?" The white-haired girl raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You have your own tea business?"
"Of course." I kept a perfectly straight face. "The Chiba family owns extensive tea plantations… covering a few square meters of our yard. You might call us moderately big players in the industry."
"You're kidding, right?" Tsubaki adjusted her glasses in disbelief. "You grow this wonderful stuff in your yard?"
"That's right, Tsubaki-san." I dropped the act and smiled at the girls before taking a sip of tea. "No chemicals. I grow it and process it myself. As for the variety… you could say I developed that myself too. You won't find tea like this anywhere else. I only make it for us at home and for my grandfather. I suspect my father sneaks some out as gifts for his bosses, but to my shame, I've never managed to catch him in the act."
"A man of many talents." The vice-president shook her head. I couldn't tell whether she meant it or was being subtly sarcastic. "You play sports, get top grades, grow tea, and beat up Fallen by night. I'm almost afraid to ask what other surprises you have in store."
"I'm proficient with a wide range of melee, throwing, and ranged weapons, apart from modern ones. I can sew, make most of the weapons I use, and cook extremely well. I know a fair bit about medicine, exotic pharmacology, alchemy, and jewelry making. I play the guzheng, guqin, pipa…" I thought for a couple of seconds, then chuckled at the girls' astonished faces. "Anyway, I have quite a few skills, and listing them all is starting to sound an awful lot like bragging. I'll spare you my résumé, too. It would take up the entire table."
"To be honest, Taro-kun, I find all that a little hard to believe," Tsubaki said carefully. She clearly wanted to say something like "You're full of it," but good manners and her upbringing kept her in check.
"I don't blame you in the slightest, but I can demonstrate everything except the cooking." I hid another smile behind my teacup.
"Why not the cooking?" Momo asked before the vice-president could speak.
"I'll only cook for my wife."
"Starting out as a demon is just like being back in the good old sect," I grumbled, heading for the nearest sporting goods store to buy a bike. "Doing all sorts of crap for nothing."
No, these were definitely the wrong sort of demons. What self-respecting demon from a cultivation world would make his servant deliver advertising flyers? It's tradition, you see. Everyone's been through it, you see. Fine, they weren't exactly advertising flyers, more like single-use summoning rituals activated by a strong desire, but still! Hello, I'm an ancient cultivator with God knows how many lifetimes behind me, a demon, a servant to the heiress of a Great House… and a delivery boy for plain old junk mail. Just what I'd always dreamed of (not really). Honestly, it was so absurd I wasn't even angry. I just wanted to laugh my ass off. At least I'd only be stuck with this nonsense for a week.
My fellow demons are pretty much keeping up with the times, too. Sinister grimoires? Summoning rituals? Studying demonology? Fuck all that! They'll drop a slip of paper in your mailbox. Make a wish on it, and if you want it badly enough, a demon will show up to sign a contract.
"Casuals everywhere! Everywhere!" I shook my head. "Just think about it! Casual Satanists! This is surreal!"
"Chiba-san!" Issei called from behind me.
"Oh, Issei-kun. How's it going?" A quick look around confirmed that his buddies were nowhere nearby. "Off to deliver flyers too?"
"Yeah! I'm heading home for my bike, then I'll come back, set up the GPS, grab the flyers, and get going." He sighed. "I thought it would be something…"
"More exciting?"
"Yeah, I guess." Hyoudou scratched the back of his head. "Chiba-san, I never properly thanked you for yesterday. So much happened all at once, and this morning Matsuda…"
"Oh, don't worry about it, Issei-kun." I waved off his thanks. "I helped you out, that's all. You can return the favor sometime, and we'll be even. I have a feeling we'll be seeing a lot of each other from now on. After all, Sitri-sama and Gremory-san are on good terms, from what I understand."
"I guess. It blew my mind finding out we've got actual demons at our school! And it turns out I was killed by a Fallen Angel! The guy you beat up was a Fallen too! And the club president, Rias-senpai, is a demon! And the student council president, Sona-senpai…"
"Sitri-senpai," I corrected him. This dimwit hadn't earned the privilege of calling my lady by her given name. I did make a mental note that someone had apparently managed to kill him, though.
"Right, right! Sitri-senpai's a demon too! And Koneko-chan, and Akeno-san, and that bastard Kiba! And the entire student council!!!"
"Issei-kun." I sighed, already getting tired of his company. "Shouldn't you be hurrying home to fetch your pedal-powered steed?"
"But I live that way," he said innocently, waving a hand straight ahead. "Where are you headed?"
"To the store for a bike." I sighed in resignation. Besides the cash Dad had given me that morning, I had my "junior" debit card. I hardly ever used it, so I'd saved up enough pocket money to buy a scooter. My folks were in for a surprise when they got the purchase notification for my new set of wheels. They'd definitely think I was planning to show off for the cute girl I liked.
After waving goodbye to Issei… Ise, right. He'd asked me to just call him Ise. I'd saved his life, after all, so that made me a real friend. Ah, well…
Anyway, once I'd waved goodbye to my new buddy—Leviathan-sama spare me another one like him—I breathed a sigh of relief. He'd been chattering away… like Mom on the phone with a friend. Nonstop, raving about Rias-senpai and her "huuuge boobs" (each time, I bowed to passersby and apologized for my classmate). About Akeno-san, the ideal Japanese woman, whose breasts were smaller than the Occult Research Club president's, of course, but still absolutely magnificent (another bow, another apology). About Koneko-chan, so petite and kawaii, but stern and quiet. Still, she was just—wow! Then came a crude remark about her body (this time I apologized and smacked him on the back of the head, because Koneko-chan was far too sweet for him to talk about her like that). As for Kiba-kun, though, Hyoudou kept it short and eloquent: "Asshole."
But I endured it all. In the name of Sitri-sama, yes. And no, I hadn't turned into some idiot drooling over her like a doggo eyeing a marrow bone. This was just… part of my "default settings."
Who could a Great Man like me possibly serve? Only a Great Lady. I didn't feel demeaned, because Sitri Sona was first in line to inherit a Great House. A princess, you might say. Her own older sister was Leviathan. One of the Satans—the Kings of the Underworld. Yes, I needed her House's resources, and yes, I would serve in return. Serve faithfully and honorably. Besides, the others on the student council were very fond of our lady. In cultivation worlds, you often got hypocrisy along the lines of "The Great Senior Master puts the gods to shame with his wisdom!" when the master could hear, and "Lucky piece of trash, the fucking bastard" when he wasn't around.
There was none of that here. Sitri-san herself was calm and courteous with us. She met each person's gaze warmly, her beautiful eyes a little sad and tired. The girls responded in kind, speaking to her with genuine respect and readily taking on whatever tasks she gave them. I liked the atmosphere in our little clan.
And I liked the challenge. Yes, the challenge. Hmm… a test of sorts, perhaps? Pfft… Who was I kidding? Pride. The plain old pride of an ancient Practitioner. I cannot be a bad servant! I can't do a bad job of anything I take on. I am the Best. And the woman I serve must be Great. Her House must be the Strongest. And so it shall be.
When I reach the highest ranks of the demon world, people will speak of me as the Greatest—a man who came from the Greatest House, where he served the Greatest Lady. And so it shall be.
My pride won't let me bow to Sitri-sama and then badmouth her behind her back. Anyone who insults his Master out of mindless pride is trash. Because he doesn't understand that by belittling his lord, he diminishes himself.
People here understand that. In Japan, I mean. Many people, my parents included, give their work everything they've got, with enthusiasm and faith in its value. They take pride in what they achieve together and in their own part in it. For instance, I've never once heard Dad badmouth his company or Mom complain about housework. After nearly twenty years with the company, Dad has become a respected man whose words carry weight. Mom wouldn't even think of complaining: Dad and I both treat her with respect, and we've never taken all she does to keep our home running for granted. Her home is where she fights her endless battle, just as Dad wages his daily battles at work.
Yes, they're ordinary people, but decent and proud. In their own way. Their pride has a touch of old Japan about it—the romantic image people have when they don't know about… the less pleasant side of that era. Legendary loyalty unto death, brave warriors, the noblest and wisest of lords.
Yeah, yeah, of course—if I posted anything like that on a forum, it'd start a flame war. The experts would come crawling out of the woodwork. Foreign ones eager to open my eyes to the horrors of the nation I belong to in this life, and locals who, for some reason, hate their own country with all their hearts. I could explain a thousand times that I meant the romanticized image, but would people who can't stop spewing bile at everyone around them give a damn?
Besides, it's easy to draw parallels between feudal Japan and modern businesses. Employer–employee relations here are still… rather interesting. For all the advanced technology, this whole "loyalty to the corporation" thing still smacks of feudalism. Some employees spend their entire working lives at the same company. Then again… I'm used to that sort of thing. I've taken entire dynasties under my wing, and in my early lives I served sects or noble houses until the day I died. So, nothing out of the ordinary.
My idle musings vanished as the discomfort from the sun seemed to intensify. But that couldn't be right. The sunset was painting the horizon orange, and the sensation was… hmm… something like spiritual pressure? Where was it coming from?
"No, it can't be!" A man's panicked voice caught my attention from about thirty meters away. I spotted a figure in a coat and a stylish hat… Well, if it wasn't Black Rooster-san! And his mug was positively glowing with health, as if I hadn't beaten it black and blue just yesterday.
Hmm… This was House Gremory's territory, so throwing my weight around here wasn't a good idea. Besides, there was an unwritten rule against starting fights unless an enemy set foot on the grounds of your headquarters. Issei could easily have avoided this guy's attack by saying which House he belonged to. Sitri-sama had explained that he simply hadn't known he'd been reincarnated, and the Fallen might have mistaken his confusion for the fear of an exile with no House to back him up. And there were too many people around… Hmm… But a little joke was fair game!
"ORA!" I called out to the bird in the stylish hat, beaming and waving as if greeting an old friend.
Heh… I hadn't seen an "About-face!" executed that crisply or that quickly in ages. The Fallen beat a hasty retreat, and I strained my ears to catch his muttering: "He's a demon now, too. Nooo, Raynare, you're on your own. I'm out of here!" Interesting. Who was this Raynare guy? Or girl? Ah, never mind. One little act of spite, and I'd paid the world back for saddling me with that motormouth Issei. I felt better already.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Chapter 8
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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Now, more than ever, I understood the grumbling of those washed-up old cultivators from the crappy little sects I'd joined in my earliest lives. "Forget everything else and cultivate," they'd tell the youngsters, and they meant literally everything. Their ideal novice would do just three things: eat, meditate, and train. Everything else was a complete waste of time.
Some idiots would joke about what the hell kind of life that was… Stupid trash. Then again… I'd been just like them, and so had those Senior Masters, who were no stronger than senior disciples in a decent sect. You needed to reach a stage where aging slowed right down, and the sooner the better. Otherwise, you'd be stuck looking like an old geezer until you learned to control your body's appearance—assuming you lived that long.
Sure, after so many cycles of birth and death, I wasn't nearly as worried about aging anymore. I knew exactly what to look for within myself, how to sense qi, how to awaken my dantian, and how to circulate energy through my meridians as efficiently as possible—strengthening them, growing new ones, and nourishing the Core of Life. I had no trouble "remembering" the proper movements for active meditation, which resembled kata from exotic martial arts (most of them actually were kata, and regular practice made certain techniques much easier to perform). And then there was alchemy, of course.
Plenty of combat specialists frowned when a young practitioner they considered so promising spent his time on an important but secondary branch of the art. After all, the sect would provide all the pills and potions you needed. Just show some results… Well, they didn't know I had recipes for incredibly powerful and useful concoctions that could be made from ingredients many sects considered practically worthless. And that wasn't even counting the pill that could take a body with only the most basic preparation and, in next to no time, bring it to a level some people spent years or even decades reaching. The only catch was that the Ascension process had to be controlled very carefully. The changes were drastic, and the pill lacked the semblance of intelligence an Evil Piece had. It was crucial to guide those changes in the right places.
Well, given my ridiculous workload, I could understand those wrinkled lifelong disciples who'd pissed away their youth on pointless crap. Inside me, selfishness and responsibility were fighting one hell of a battle. No, scratch that… Selfishness against selfishness, greed for immediate gratification against greed for future rewards:
I needed to keep my grades up, keep my kendo skills sharp (Goto-san still had more to teach me), fulfill my duties on the disciplinary committee, spend a reasonable amount of time socializing with Sitri-sama and her servants (which was pretty draining, since I wasn't used to it), help out with student council work, fine-tune my energy system, rebuild the array for the Nine Eyes of the Sage, carry out my duties as a demon, stay in shape, make time for my parents…
So I had to cut back on anything that wasn't essential, starting with sleep. I often replaced it with still meditation anyway, resting my brain as soothing "tidal waves" of qi washed over me (demons didn't need as much sleep as humans, either). Even my precious two hours of entertainment took a hit, along with my wushu classes, which, frankly, had outlived their usefulness after Ascension.
I was incredibly grateful to Sitri-sama when, after three days of the student council's "crunch time," she paid my family a visit and thanked Mom and Dad for letting me turn my sleep schedule upside down.
While she was at it, she arranged for me to move into the academy's dormitory. Kuoh did have one, though it was practically empty. It was left over from the days when the academy had been an elite girls' school. Back then, students had come from all over the prefecture.
My Lady deftly used her eloquence and magic to sell them a half-truth: the Shitori family had taken an interest in me as a serious, promising student and was offering me an intensive study program. Honestly, it really was a tempting offer: the school curriculum, tours of Shitori businesses with a chance to see how various departments worked, extra classes, and university prep. And the prospect of the Shitori family covering my tuition at a prestigious university was nothing to scoff at, either. The whole pitch was sweetened with magic, so my parents took her at her word and were enthusiastic from the start.
To be completely honest, I wasn't thrilled about my folks being put under a spell, but I agreed with Sona-san that this would be much quicker and easier than getting me into the Shitori company's very real program without magical help. Getting through the red tape could take weeks, and I'd soon have serious contract work to do at night. Moving into the dorm would free up a ton of time and open up plenty of opportunities. And I could still drop by the Chiba family home whenever I had a spare moment, cook Mom and Dad something nice, and tend to the tea bushes.
"Are you ready, Taro-kun?" Tsubaki-san's cold voice interrupted my train of thought.
"More than ready." I gave the Queen an easy smile and looked over at the other Rook. Yura Tsubasa. Energetic, cheerful, a bit of a tomboy—which only added to her charm. My sparring partner and my senpai on the disciplinary committee.
"I don't like that little smile of yours, Taro-kun." Despite her words, Tsubasa sounded cheerful. "Far too condescending. But that's all right. We'll soon wipe it off your face."
I just smiled wider. My week of delivering flyers for "initiation" was over, and the veil of mystery surrounding the tradition had been lifted. Not that there'd been any mystery to begin with. Sitri-sama had explained it all clearly enough. It was all about reincarnation, adjusting to newfound powers, and getting some basic training for fieldwork.
Alongside the traditional busywork usually left to familiars, a newborn demon received basic training. The things even a "newborn" absolutely had to know. For instance, on my very first day as a demon, Sona-sama herself had told me about her family: her esteemed parents and her older sister, Serafall Leviathan, one of the four rulers of the Demon World. Of course, that wasn't all. There was also a brief history of relations between the three biblical races: Demons, Fallen, and Angels. The devastating three-way war they'd fought many centuries ago, with enormous losses on every side, had been a major turning point in their history. That war was precisely why demons recruited servants from among mortals and other races, turning them into reincarnated demons.
The losses had been too heavy, and now the Underworld was trying to rebuild its population without resorting to "we'll take anyone we can get." They carefully selected only strong, worthy individuals, and the Evil Pieces helped with that—you couldn't just shove one into the first person who came along. A Piece had to… hmm… respond. In this case, "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter—not the other way around" was the perfect analogy.
I'd also been given a broad outline of magic in the Demon World. A "newborn's" energy system was supposed to settle down over that week so they could begin practical training. And of course, delivering flyers gave a young demon a safe way to get to grips with their new nature and start getting used to their enhanced physical capabilities and newfound powers. And even a freshly reincarnated demon's basic abilities were… impressive.
First off, I could now sprout wings. I hadn't quite figured out how that worked, or why my clothes reshaped themselves instead of tearing when the extra pair of limbs appeared. I couldn't fly with them yet—or levitate, to be precise—but they looked like a very promising subject for further study. Like my other demonic abilities, they left me asking, "How does this work?" My body was my Kingdom, and I'd always known what went on inside it. That was a basic requirement for a practitioner at my level. Every bone, every muscle, every blood vessel—I knew them all inside out. But the wings… they were there and yet they weren't—beyond my understanding for now. For now.
Second, Dialectos. Another impressive ability. Pure, unadulterated magical wizardry. Understanding every language in the world and being able to get your meaning across to anyone, whether they spoke Chinese or the language of the African Bushmen. Not actually knowing the languages, but understanding them… a sort of automatic translator. A perfect translator that made even untranslatable wordplay make sense. It was always on. Unlike an array, it didn't need to be activated, rebuilt, or even fed energy. It was there—but where? Just like the Great Quartermaster's famous gopher: you couldn't see it, but it was there.
Third, longevity. Had I just… hit the jackpot? Yeah, probably. Nobody had ever heard of a demon who'd kicked the bucket from old age. They grew up as quickly as humans, then, once they reached their prime, aged incredibly slowly. For me, with a cultivator's abilities, that meant Eternity. An endless life in my prime. That alone would have been enough to make any practitioner sell themselves into slavery to any demon family, weeping with joy. Serve a couple of millennia in exchange for physical immortality when you're not even sure you can break through to the higher levels of existence? Pfft! Where do I sign in blood?
Fourth. The good stuff. The really good stuff. Demonic power. Let's be honest: this was the most important of the lot. I'd never had trouble with languages—I'd become quite the polyglot over all those lives. I'd never lived long enough for my body to grow old and frail anyway. And I'd soon be able to levitate without the fancy wings. But an extra… hmm… form of energy, something other than qi that I could manipulate… Now that was Power. I didn't even know what to compare it to, what analogy to use. More ways to grow stronger, a bigger arsenal in combat—those were just the obvious benefits.
Demons who knew how to handle demonic power could pull off all sorts of interesting tricks. Boost their physical stats, create barriers, mess with people's minds, launch attacks, change their appearance, put together complex constructs like teleportation circles, create and power artifacts, and much, much more. Basically… I was a very happy, very satisfied man. And once we got here, to Hell—or the Underworld—"absolutely ecstatic" was about right.
Just as I'd expected, the place was brimming with energy. We'd barely teleported into House Sitri territory before I started planning little outings to collect the local herbs and assorted critters, eyes narrowed in satisfaction as we headed for the training grounds. I'd need to stock up on jars, tubs, pouches. Containers of all kinds, basically.
But that could wait until next time. Today, I was going to find out what my new nature could really do. In other words, Sitri-sama had decided to put me through my paces with the help of her servants. The whole group was at the training grounds, and my first opponent would be Yura Tsubasa, the other Rook. She was supposed to show her young kohai how it was done, so to speak. Yeah, sure. I was planning to show her a thing or two myself.
"Taro-kun." Tsubasa, dressed in a lightweight tracksuit, tilted her head. "Don't you want to take off that pretty robe? It'd be a shame to get it dirty or tear it."
The thing was, I was wearing the sort of outfit I'd grown used to in my previous lives, and I'd sewn it myself. Something like a pao: a floor-length robe with wide sleeves, side slits, and embroidered bamboo patterns. Some might say it wasn't exactly practical for fighting, but I'd disagree. The perfect outfit for someone who knew how to fight in it. You could hide a whole arsenal in there, conceal the movements leading up to a strike, and as for comfort… skill was what mattered. A master could fight naked or in a boyar's sable coat. Besides, given a practitioner's speed and strength, "grab the hem and yank" simply wasn't going to work—the robe was specially sewn, so that bit of fabric would just tear off.
"Don't worry, senpai." I shook my head, watching my Lady's Queen take her place to Sitri-san's right. "It's made for fighting."
"Begin," said the President, her lovely voice a little weary as always. The other girls and Genshiro-kun had gathered beside her.
"Let's give Sitri-sama a good show, Tsubasa-san." I bowed slightly, touching my right fist to my open left palm.
"All right." She returned the bow and settled into a fighting stance.
While we were on disciplinary committee duty together, she'd told me that before meeting Sitri-sama, she'd fought all sorts of supernatural nasties using martial arts and her innate powers. So I was hoping for an interesting fight, at the very least. Her demonic power made it impossible to tell whether she was an awakened practitioner at one of the lower stages, but I suspected that "innate power" of hers was actually qi. I could be wrong, of course, but I was a big fan of Occam's razor.
Sona sighed softly. Taro-kun was an intriguing puzzle, and he had a knack for surprising her. Here was another example: one brief exchange, and the experienced Tsubasa-chan was lying on the ground while her kohai pursed his lips in mild disappointment. "Just like some old man," the heiress to House Sitri thought.
"How is that even possible?" Her Pawn sounded utterly astonished.
"I had a feeling this would happen," Tsubaki murmured thoughtfully, watching impassively as a thoroughly stunned Tsubasa-chan got to her feet.
"You're not taking me seriously, Tsubasa-san." Chiba Taro shook his head reproachfully. House Sitri's newest Rook stood at ease in the same spot, arms folded across his chest, hands tucked into the sleeves of his Chinese-style robe. "Please don't hold back or go easy on me."
Sona merely nodded thoughtfully. Tsubasa hadn't seen Taro's fight with the Fallen, so her opening strike had been far too casual. She'd clearly held back on both speed and power, either going easy on the newcomer or simply not taking him seriously—and paid for it immediately. He'd shifted his upper body, letting his senpai's fist slip past his shoulder, then delivered a rapid series of punches to her chest, finishing with an open-palm strike that sent her flying several meters and rolling across the ground. But as far as Sona could tell, Taro hadn't used his full strength either. Her new servant had simply given Tsubasa a little "wake-up call," a reminder to take the fight more seriously.
"All right…" Yura Tsubasa drawled, a hint of menace in her voice as she glanced at her Lady. Sona gave her a small, encouraging nod of approval.
The two clashed again at once. Yet Taro still didn't suffer the defeat most of the onlookers had expected. He stayed right where he was, easily dodging the girl's powerful blows while watching her intently. He blocked a couple of Tsubasa's attacks with light movements of his hands and met one of her kicks with his own. Then annoyance crept across his face. His expression darkened with every second of the fight, until anger flashed in his eyes.
"What do I have to do to get you to hit me with everything you've got?" he asked without breaking off the fight.
"What?" His opponent disengaged, jumping back a meter.
"Everything you've got," Chiba repeated, visibly irritated. In a strange, quick gesture, he swept his thumbs along his cheeks and back behind his ears. His cheek twitched in annoyance.
"Like he was trying to tuck long hair behind his ears," Sona thought.
"Every strike must carry the intent to kill," he said grimly. "Otherwise it's not a strike—it's a farce. We're both Rooks. Phenomenally strong and incredibly tough. Why are you treating me like Emperor Fu's fine china?"
"Taro-kun…" Tsubasa was clearly at a loss.
"Right now, I'm your opponent, Tsubasa-san." For the first time in the training session, he assumed a fighting stance Sona didn't recognize. "The outcome of real battles depends on how you spar. Those who are careless in training meet an inglorious death in battle. You must fight to win, not fool around. If you won't take this seriously, I'll make you. Forgive me."
And with that… he surged toward Tsubasa so fast that Sona's eyebrows shot up. He was little more than a blur, unleashing a barrage of swift, powerful punches and kicks that gave Tsubasa no time to adjust to the onslaught. A couple of seconds later, her body shot several meters straight into the air. And Taro followed her!!! Every so often, he punched or kicked at thin air, apparently pushing off it to climb higher while continuing to pummel his senpai. As for Tsubasa… she was clearly overwhelmed by the assault.
"Hypocrite." Sona wasn't sure which she felt more strongly toward Taro right now: disapproval or approval. She could see that Chiba wasn't using his full strength either. Despite Tsubasa's confusion, despite the situation she was in, Sona saw no sign of pain on her face as his relentless attacks sent her flying higher and higher. Bewilderment, shock, surprise—yes. But none of his blows made her grimace in pain.
The aerial battle… or beating… ended with a tremendous downward kick. The girl slammed into the ground with a crash that made Sona's Queen wince and Momo let out a quiet gasp. Taro, meanwhile… remained standing in midair, still in that "arms folded, hands tucked into sleeves" pose. His expression was calm once more, but his gaze was grim.
(This is an experiment. What do you think—should I include pictures like these from time to time? They're AI-generated, obviously, so the quality is… hmm… well, illustrators will probably cringe, but I got hooked on the idea.)
"Are we sure he absorbed a Rook?" Momo asked quietly, glancing sideways at Sona.
"He was fast even before his reincarnation," Tsubaki answered for her Lady. "But yes, he's every bit as fast as a Knight."
"Sitri-sama," the boy said respectfully, somehow standing in midair without manifesting his wings. "Perhaps Tomoe-san could join Tsubasa-san?"
"All right," Sitri said after a moment's thought, nodding to her Knight.
"But he's unarmed," Meguri Tomoe said with mild surprise, touching the hilt of her katana.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Taro said with a snort. In a movement too quick to follow, he drew two metal rods from his sleeves and snapped them together. He tossed the resulting "contraption" into the air and, just as quickly, drew two more identical rods through the slits at the sides of his robe. He joined those together, then caught the first section. Another click, and he was holding something like a metal bo staff, with elaborate patterns worked into its surface.
"Hmm… How about we make it five against one, then?" Tsubaki suddenly spoke up, studying Chiba thoughtfully. "A Rook, a Knight, two Bishops, and me against you? What do you say, Taro-kun?"
"That would be wonderful!" The boy beamed and suddenly jumped down to the ground. Or rather, he simply fell out of the sky, as though the support beneath his feet had vanished.
"Sona?" Her Queen gave her a questioning look.
"Four. The Knight, the Bishops, and the Rook." Sona shook her head, turning to Yura, who was dusting herself off. "Tsubasa-chan, are you all right?"
"Yes, Sona-san." The Rook gave her a crooked smile. "The only thing bruised is my pride…"
"My apologies for that, Tsubasa-san." Taro bowed to her, but she simply waved it off, still looking annoyed.
"Taro-kun," Sona said, drawing his attention. "Facing four opponents is a serious challenge, so please give this sparring match your best effort. Remember, Meguri is my Knight, and she's very fast and skilled with a blade. The Bishops, Momo and Reya, provide magical support. I wouldn't advise taking their magical attacks lightly. As for a Rook's strength and endurance, I doubt I need to explain those to you. The girls already know how to fight as a team, so I don't want to see you making the same mistakes as Tsubasa-chan."
With those last words, Sona gave the dejected girl a gentle smile to show she wasn't angry with her. Remembering Genshiro-kun's first sparring match a couple of days earlier, she could understand why her Rook had gone so easy on Taro.
"I'm always serious, Sitri-sama." The boy nodded, lightly tapping the butt of his bo staff against the ground.
"Sona, Taro-kun. Call me by my first name." She sighed. Taro kept calling her Sitri-sama, and Genshiro had taken to doing the same. Sona found it a little… irritating.
"Forgive me, my Lady." He bowed his head apologetically, prompting another brief, discreet sigh from her.
"Get ready." The heiress to House Sitri nodded to her Pieces, casting a sidelong glance at Tsubaki, who had resigned herself to being a spectator but still looked a little disappointed.
Her Queen thought Chiba was far too sure of himself and kept trying to rein him in. Not out of malice—far from it. Shinra Tsubaki cared deeply about her comrades and saw House Sitri as her family. She really was worried about the boy, afraid his arrogance might land him—or Sona—in trouble.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Some idiots would joke about what the hell kind of life that was… Stupid trash. Then again… I'd been just like them, and so had those Senior Masters, who were no stronger than senior disciples in a decent sect. You needed to reach a stage where aging slowed right down, and the sooner the better. Otherwise, you'd be stuck looking like an old geezer until you learned to control your body's appearance—assuming you lived that long.
Sure, after so many cycles of birth and death, I wasn't nearly as worried about aging anymore. I knew exactly what to look for within myself, how to sense qi, how to awaken my dantian, and how to circulate energy through my meridians as efficiently as possible—strengthening them, growing new ones, and nourishing the Core of Life. I had no trouble "remembering" the proper movements for active meditation, which resembled kata from exotic martial arts (most of them actually were kata, and regular practice made certain techniques much easier to perform). And then there was alchemy, of course.
Plenty of combat specialists frowned when a young practitioner they considered so promising spent his time on an important but secondary branch of the art. After all, the sect would provide all the pills and potions you needed. Just show some results… Well, they didn't know I had recipes for incredibly powerful and useful concoctions that could be made from ingredients many sects considered practically worthless. And that wasn't even counting the pill that could take a body with only the most basic preparation and, in next to no time, bring it to a level some people spent years or even decades reaching. The only catch was that the Ascension process had to be controlled very carefully. The changes were drastic, and the pill lacked the semblance of intelligence an Evil Piece had. It was crucial to guide those changes in the right places.
Well, given my ridiculous workload, I could understand those wrinkled lifelong disciples who'd pissed away their youth on pointless crap. Inside me, selfishness and responsibility were fighting one hell of a battle. No, scratch that… Selfishness against selfishness, greed for immediate gratification against greed for future rewards:
I needed to keep my grades up, keep my kendo skills sharp (Goto-san still had more to teach me), fulfill my duties on the disciplinary committee, spend a reasonable amount of time socializing with Sitri-sama and her servants (which was pretty draining, since I wasn't used to it), help out with student council work, fine-tune my energy system, rebuild the array for the Nine Eyes of the Sage, carry out my duties as a demon, stay in shape, make time for my parents…
So I had to cut back on anything that wasn't essential, starting with sleep. I often replaced it with still meditation anyway, resting my brain as soothing "tidal waves" of qi washed over me (demons didn't need as much sleep as humans, either). Even my precious two hours of entertainment took a hit, along with my wushu classes, which, frankly, had outlived their usefulness after Ascension.
I was incredibly grateful to Sitri-sama when, after three days of the student council's "crunch time," she paid my family a visit and thanked Mom and Dad for letting me turn my sleep schedule upside down.
While she was at it, she arranged for me to move into the academy's dormitory. Kuoh did have one, though it was practically empty. It was left over from the days when the academy had been an elite girls' school. Back then, students had come from all over the prefecture.
My Lady deftly used her eloquence and magic to sell them a half-truth: the Shitori family had taken an interest in me as a serious, promising student and was offering me an intensive study program. Honestly, it really was a tempting offer: the school curriculum, tours of Shitori businesses with a chance to see how various departments worked, extra classes, and university prep. And the prospect of the Shitori family covering my tuition at a prestigious university was nothing to scoff at, either. The whole pitch was sweetened with magic, so my parents took her at her word and were enthusiastic from the start.
To be completely honest, I wasn't thrilled about my folks being put under a spell, but I agreed with Sona-san that this would be much quicker and easier than getting me into the Shitori company's very real program without magical help. Getting through the red tape could take weeks, and I'd soon have serious contract work to do at night. Moving into the dorm would free up a ton of time and open up plenty of opportunities. And I could still drop by the Chiba family home whenever I had a spare moment, cook Mom and Dad something nice, and tend to the tea bushes.
"Are you ready, Taro-kun?" Tsubaki-san's cold voice interrupted my train of thought.
"More than ready." I gave the Queen an easy smile and looked over at the other Rook. Yura Tsubasa. Energetic, cheerful, a bit of a tomboy—which only added to her charm. My sparring partner and my senpai on the disciplinary committee.
"I don't like that little smile of yours, Taro-kun." Despite her words, Tsubasa sounded cheerful. "Far too condescending. But that's all right. We'll soon wipe it off your face."
I just smiled wider. My week of delivering flyers for "initiation" was over, and the veil of mystery surrounding the tradition had been lifted. Not that there'd been any mystery to begin with. Sitri-sama had explained it all clearly enough. It was all about reincarnation, adjusting to newfound powers, and getting some basic training for fieldwork.
Alongside the traditional busywork usually left to familiars, a newborn demon received basic training. The things even a "newborn" absolutely had to know. For instance, on my very first day as a demon, Sona-sama herself had told me about her family: her esteemed parents and her older sister, Serafall Leviathan, one of the four rulers of the Demon World. Of course, that wasn't all. There was also a brief history of relations between the three biblical races: Demons, Fallen, and Angels. The devastating three-way war they'd fought many centuries ago, with enormous losses on every side, had been a major turning point in their history. That war was precisely why demons recruited servants from among mortals and other races, turning them into reincarnated demons.
The losses had been too heavy, and now the Underworld was trying to rebuild its population without resorting to "we'll take anyone we can get." They carefully selected only strong, worthy individuals, and the Evil Pieces helped with that—you couldn't just shove one into the first person who came along. A Piece had to… hmm… respond. In this case, "The wand chooses the wizard, Mr. Potter—not the other way around" was the perfect analogy.
I'd also been given a broad outline of magic in the Demon World. A "newborn's" energy system was supposed to settle down over that week so they could begin practical training. And of course, delivering flyers gave a young demon a safe way to get to grips with their new nature and start getting used to their enhanced physical capabilities and newfound powers. And even a freshly reincarnated demon's basic abilities were… impressive.
First off, I could now sprout wings. I hadn't quite figured out how that worked, or why my clothes reshaped themselves instead of tearing when the extra pair of limbs appeared. I couldn't fly with them yet—or levitate, to be precise—but they looked like a very promising subject for further study. Like my other demonic abilities, they left me asking, "How does this work?" My body was my Kingdom, and I'd always known what went on inside it. That was a basic requirement for a practitioner at my level. Every bone, every muscle, every blood vessel—I knew them all inside out. But the wings… they were there and yet they weren't—beyond my understanding for now. For now.
Second, Dialectos. Another impressive ability. Pure, unadulterated magical wizardry. Understanding every language in the world and being able to get your meaning across to anyone, whether they spoke Chinese or the language of the African Bushmen. Not actually knowing the languages, but understanding them… a sort of automatic translator. A perfect translator that made even untranslatable wordplay make sense. It was always on. Unlike an array, it didn't need to be activated, rebuilt, or even fed energy. It was there—but where? Just like the Great Quartermaster's famous gopher: you couldn't see it, but it was there.
Third, longevity. Had I just… hit the jackpot? Yeah, probably. Nobody had ever heard of a demon who'd kicked the bucket from old age. They grew up as quickly as humans, then, once they reached their prime, aged incredibly slowly. For me, with a cultivator's abilities, that meant Eternity. An endless life in my prime. That alone would have been enough to make any practitioner sell themselves into slavery to any demon family, weeping with joy. Serve a couple of millennia in exchange for physical immortality when you're not even sure you can break through to the higher levels of existence? Pfft! Where do I sign in blood?
Fourth. The good stuff. The really good stuff. Demonic power. Let's be honest: this was the most important of the lot. I'd never had trouble with languages—I'd become quite the polyglot over all those lives. I'd never lived long enough for my body to grow old and frail anyway. And I'd soon be able to levitate without the fancy wings. But an extra… hmm… form of energy, something other than qi that I could manipulate… Now that was Power. I didn't even know what to compare it to, what analogy to use. More ways to grow stronger, a bigger arsenal in combat—those were just the obvious benefits.
Demons who knew how to handle demonic power could pull off all sorts of interesting tricks. Boost their physical stats, create barriers, mess with people's minds, launch attacks, change their appearance, put together complex constructs like teleportation circles, create and power artifacts, and much, much more. Basically… I was a very happy, very satisfied man. And once we got here, to Hell—or the Underworld—"absolutely ecstatic" was about right.
Just as I'd expected, the place was brimming with energy. We'd barely teleported into House Sitri territory before I started planning little outings to collect the local herbs and assorted critters, eyes narrowed in satisfaction as we headed for the training grounds. I'd need to stock up on jars, tubs, pouches. Containers of all kinds, basically.
But that could wait until next time. Today, I was going to find out what my new nature could really do. In other words, Sitri-sama had decided to put me through my paces with the help of her servants. The whole group was at the training grounds, and my first opponent would be Yura Tsubasa, the other Rook. She was supposed to show her young kohai how it was done, so to speak. Yeah, sure. I was planning to show her a thing or two myself.
"Taro-kun." Tsubasa, dressed in a lightweight tracksuit, tilted her head. "Don't you want to take off that pretty robe? It'd be a shame to get it dirty or tear it."
The thing was, I was wearing the sort of outfit I'd grown used to in my previous lives, and I'd sewn it myself. Something like a pao: a floor-length robe with wide sleeves, side slits, and embroidered bamboo patterns. Some might say it wasn't exactly practical for fighting, but I'd disagree. The perfect outfit for someone who knew how to fight in it. You could hide a whole arsenal in there, conceal the movements leading up to a strike, and as for comfort… skill was what mattered. A master could fight naked or in a boyar's sable coat. Besides, given a practitioner's speed and strength, "grab the hem and yank" simply wasn't going to work—the robe was specially sewn, so that bit of fabric would just tear off.
"Don't worry, senpai." I shook my head, watching my Lady's Queen take her place to Sitri-san's right. "It's made for fighting."
"Begin," said the President, her lovely voice a little weary as always. The other girls and Genshiro-kun had gathered beside her.
"Let's give Sitri-sama a good show, Tsubasa-san." I bowed slightly, touching my right fist to my open left palm.
"All right." She returned the bow and settled into a fighting stance.
While we were on disciplinary committee duty together, she'd told me that before meeting Sitri-sama, she'd fought all sorts of supernatural nasties using martial arts and her innate powers. So I was hoping for an interesting fight, at the very least. Her demonic power made it impossible to tell whether she was an awakened practitioner at one of the lower stages, but I suspected that "innate power" of hers was actually qi. I could be wrong, of course, but I was a big fan of Occam's razor.
Sona sighed softly. Taro-kun was an intriguing puzzle, and he had a knack for surprising her. Here was another example: one brief exchange, and the experienced Tsubasa-chan was lying on the ground while her kohai pursed his lips in mild disappointment. "Just like some old man," the heiress to House Sitri thought.
"How is that even possible?" Her Pawn sounded utterly astonished.
"I had a feeling this would happen," Tsubaki murmured thoughtfully, watching impassively as a thoroughly stunned Tsubasa-chan got to her feet.
"You're not taking me seriously, Tsubasa-san." Chiba Taro shook his head reproachfully. House Sitri's newest Rook stood at ease in the same spot, arms folded across his chest, hands tucked into the sleeves of his Chinese-style robe. "Please don't hold back or go easy on me."
Sona merely nodded thoughtfully. Tsubasa hadn't seen Taro's fight with the Fallen, so her opening strike had been far too casual. She'd clearly held back on both speed and power, either going easy on the newcomer or simply not taking him seriously—and paid for it immediately. He'd shifted his upper body, letting his senpai's fist slip past his shoulder, then delivered a rapid series of punches to her chest, finishing with an open-palm strike that sent her flying several meters and rolling across the ground. But as far as Sona could tell, Taro hadn't used his full strength either. Her new servant had simply given Tsubasa a little "wake-up call," a reminder to take the fight more seriously.
"All right…" Yura Tsubasa drawled, a hint of menace in her voice as she glanced at her Lady. Sona gave her a small, encouraging nod of approval.
The two clashed again at once. Yet Taro still didn't suffer the defeat most of the onlookers had expected. He stayed right where he was, easily dodging the girl's powerful blows while watching her intently. He blocked a couple of Tsubasa's attacks with light movements of his hands and met one of her kicks with his own. Then annoyance crept across his face. His expression darkened with every second of the fight, until anger flashed in his eyes.
"What do I have to do to get you to hit me with everything you've got?" he asked without breaking off the fight.
"What?" His opponent disengaged, jumping back a meter.
"Everything you've got," Chiba repeated, visibly irritated. In a strange, quick gesture, he swept his thumbs along his cheeks and back behind his ears. His cheek twitched in annoyance.
"Like he was trying to tuck long hair behind his ears," Sona thought.
"Every strike must carry the intent to kill," he said grimly. "Otherwise it's not a strike—it's a farce. We're both Rooks. Phenomenally strong and incredibly tough. Why are you treating me like Emperor Fu's fine china?"
"Taro-kun…" Tsubasa was clearly at a loss.
"Right now, I'm your opponent, Tsubasa-san." For the first time in the training session, he assumed a fighting stance Sona didn't recognize. "The outcome of real battles depends on how you spar. Those who are careless in training meet an inglorious death in battle. You must fight to win, not fool around. If you won't take this seriously, I'll make you. Forgive me."
And with that… he surged toward Tsubasa so fast that Sona's eyebrows shot up. He was little more than a blur, unleashing a barrage of swift, powerful punches and kicks that gave Tsubasa no time to adjust to the onslaught. A couple of seconds later, her body shot several meters straight into the air. And Taro followed her!!! Every so often, he punched or kicked at thin air, apparently pushing off it to climb higher while continuing to pummel his senpai. As for Tsubasa… she was clearly overwhelmed by the assault.
"Hypocrite." Sona wasn't sure which she felt more strongly toward Taro right now: disapproval or approval. She could see that Chiba wasn't using his full strength either. Despite Tsubasa's confusion, despite the situation she was in, Sona saw no sign of pain on her face as his relentless attacks sent her flying higher and higher. Bewilderment, shock, surprise—yes. But none of his blows made her grimace in pain.
The aerial battle… or beating… ended with a tremendous downward kick. The girl slammed into the ground with a crash that made Sona's Queen wince and Momo let out a quiet gasp. Taro, meanwhile… remained standing in midair, still in that "arms folded, hands tucked into sleeves" pose. His expression was calm once more, but his gaze was grim.
(This is an experiment. What do you think—should I include pictures like these from time to time? They're AI-generated, obviously, so the quality is… hmm… well, illustrators will probably cringe, but I got hooked on the idea.)
"Are we sure he absorbed a Rook?" Momo asked quietly, glancing sideways at Sona.
"He was fast even before his reincarnation," Tsubaki answered for her Lady. "But yes, he's every bit as fast as a Knight."
"Sitri-sama," the boy said respectfully, somehow standing in midair without manifesting his wings. "Perhaps Tomoe-san could join Tsubasa-san?"
"All right," Sitri said after a moment's thought, nodding to her Knight.
"But he's unarmed," Meguri Tomoe said with mild surprise, touching the hilt of her katana.
"Oh, I wouldn't say that," Taro said with a snort. In a movement too quick to follow, he drew two metal rods from his sleeves and snapped them together. He tossed the resulting "contraption" into the air and, just as quickly, drew two more identical rods through the slits at the sides of his robe. He joined those together, then caught the first section. Another click, and he was holding something like a metal bo staff, with elaborate patterns worked into its surface.
"Hmm… How about we make it five against one, then?" Tsubaki suddenly spoke up, studying Chiba thoughtfully. "A Rook, a Knight, two Bishops, and me against you? What do you say, Taro-kun?"
"That would be wonderful!" The boy beamed and suddenly jumped down to the ground. Or rather, he simply fell out of the sky, as though the support beneath his feet had vanished.
"Sona?" Her Queen gave her a questioning look.
"Four. The Knight, the Bishops, and the Rook." Sona shook her head, turning to Yura, who was dusting herself off. "Tsubasa-chan, are you all right?"
"Yes, Sona-san." The Rook gave her a crooked smile. "The only thing bruised is my pride…"
"My apologies for that, Tsubasa-san." Taro bowed to her, but she simply waved it off, still looking annoyed.
"Taro-kun," Sona said, drawing his attention. "Facing four opponents is a serious challenge, so please give this sparring match your best effort. Remember, Meguri is my Knight, and she's very fast and skilled with a blade. The Bishops, Momo and Reya, provide magical support. I wouldn't advise taking their magical attacks lightly. As for a Rook's strength and endurance, I doubt I need to explain those to you. The girls already know how to fight as a team, so I don't want to see you making the same mistakes as Tsubasa-chan."
With those last words, Sona gave the dejected girl a gentle smile to show she wasn't angry with her. Remembering Genshiro-kun's first sparring match a couple of days earlier, she could understand why her Rook had gone so easy on Taro.
"I'm always serious, Sitri-sama." The boy nodded, lightly tapping the butt of his bo staff against the ground.
"Sona, Taro-kun. Call me by my first name." She sighed. Taro kept calling her Sitri-sama, and Genshiro had taken to doing the same. Sona found it a little… irritating.
"Forgive me, my Lady." He bowed his head apologetically, prompting another brief, discreet sigh from her.
"Get ready." The heiress to House Sitri nodded to her Pieces, casting a sidelong glance at Tsubaki, who had resigned herself to being a spectator but still looked a little disappointed.
Her Queen thought Chiba was far too sure of himself and kept trying to rein him in. Not out of malice—far from it. Shinra Tsubaki cared deeply about her comrades and saw House Sitri as her family. She really was worried about the boy, afraid his arrogance might land him—or Sona—in trouble.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Chapter 9
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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"Easy, Tsubaki," Sona said quietly, and her Queen restrained herself once more. For the second time, she'd nearly rushed in to help, only for her Lady to stop her. And Sona had been right to do so. Neither the girls nor Taro had suffered any serious injuries.
"How is that even possible?" It was all Genshiro-kun could say, and his dejected expression made Tsubaki a little worried about him.
Genshiro hadn't put up much of a fight in his first sparring match, so the girls had encouraged and reassured him, telling him he'd done fairly well for his first time. But the contrast between his performance and what Chiba was doing now made Genshiro-kun's dejection and disappointment easy to understand.
Their Lady, meanwhile, watched calmly but intently. The student council president's keen gaze seemed to weigh and assess every aspect of the fight, every participant.
Tsubaki knew Sitri Sona was a genius. Knew it and was proud of her. Admired her and loved her. Respected her abilities and her keen mind. The Queen had no doubt that once this training session was over, her Lady would have words of encouragement or praise for everyone involved, along with a few gentle rebukes. Even for that… Taro.
Now there's a demon in the human sense of the word, she thought, trying once again to calm herself. A smile of strange delight had just flickered across the boy's face as a katana blade whistled past barely a millimeter from his throat. It was a shame her Lady hadn't let her join the sparring match—this Chiba was far too strong. Astonishingly strong. Impossibly strong, perhaps. A newborn demon who'd been mortal only a week ago simply couldn't fight that well.
And it wasn't even about skill. No matter how good a fighter a mortal had been, adapting to his new capabilities so quickly was impossible! Demons fought at entirely different speeds, with an entirely different level of strength. Many techniques from human martial arts became utterly useless. But this… this… Taro! He seemed to know exactly what to do and how to do it, without the slightest discomfort.
It was one thing to catch a Fallen off guard or exploit Tsubasa's mistake, but to fight four demons who'd been training for quite some time? You'd have to be a genius! Who even was he? How could he be so strong?
And cocky, too, Tsubaki thought, her cheek twitching in irritation as Taro once again turned Meguri Tomoe's katana aside with his palm and winked playfully at the swordswoman. He was clearly showing off.
He parried every sword strike with his bare hands, sharply slapping the flat of the katana to knock it a few centimeters off course—just as far as he needed. Chiba moved like a snake, twisting at impossible angles and darting in short, swift bursts, dodging blows and gently guiding his opponents' attacks aside. But never striking back. He was making his way toward his second target; the first was already lying unconscious on the ground.
Both Tsubasa and Tomoe were doing everything they could to keep Taro from reaching the second Bishop, but he kept advancing toward Momo, unhurried yet unstoppable, as though to taunt them. With casual sweeps of his bo staff, he batted aside her ice projectiles.
To be honest, the vice president had been certain at first that the four of them could handle Taro. She'd volunteered because she'd wanted to personally… take him down a peg. The boy was far too sure of himself. Not a bad person, though. Far from it. He was always polite to everyone, sweet and considerate toward the girls, and careful with his language. Since Tsubaki had asked, he'd even stopped calling everyone outside the student council trash. Quite so often, anyway…
But everything else… His cold detachment outside the student council rooms, his utter indifference to his classmates, that constant, irritated "It doesn't matter" whenever something didn't directly concern House Sitri or his family. And, of course, his unshakable, infuriating confidence in his own abilities.
Though perhaps that last part isn't just empty bravado after all, she admitted to herself with a hint of annoyance as Taro executed another swift, graceful pirouette, evading three attacks at once and advancing several more meters toward the white-haired Momo, who was visibly nervous. She was his second target, after all.
"Ladies," I said, looking at the student council members with all the anticipation of a cat eyeing a bowl of cream. After a brief, hushed discussion, Sona-san's servants were moving to their agreed positions. Bishops on the flanks, Knight and Rook in the center. "My first target will be Reya-chan, followed by Momo-san. Then I'll attack Tomoe, and finally Tsubasa-san. I won't attack any of you out of turn. Just defense—blocks, dodges, parries."
"Oh." Reya shot me a nervous glance, but I merely smiled reassuringly and winked.
"You're getting a little too full of yourself," Tomoe grumbled, frowning slightly. "You should listen to our Lady! Although…" The trace of annoyance on the mischievous girl's face vanished in an instant, replaced by a broad smile and a playful gleam in her eyes. "Actually, that'll just make it easier for us to thrash you, Taro! Let's add a prize to make things interesting! If we win, you give each of us a packet of your tea! Well? What do you say?"
A morning cup of my tea had, incidentally, become something of a tradition over the past week. Genshiro, the girls, and I would gather for tea before classes, and I was actually rather pleased about it. You see, apart from our secretary-kun, everyone there was… well, very cute. Something for every taste, as they say. Different personalities, different looks, but all of them pleasant company and easy on the eyes.
Tsubaki started each morning looking stern, but every sip brought a faint smile to her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly in pleasure. She often gave me looks I couldn't quite decipher, tried to tease me or rein me in when I got carried away, but there was no real malice in it. I figured it came from her overdeveloped sense of responsibility and her concern for the members of our little clan.
As I'd said more than once, she was beautiful and serious. She reminded me of a strict but endearingly caring kindergarten teacher. An inexperienced one, though. Tsubaki was clearly following our Lady's example, but taking it a little too far. Where Sona-san needed only a reproachful look from those deep violet eyes and a slight, disapproving shake of her head to make you squirm with shame, Shinra-san could launch into a ten-minute lecture on, say, "the unacceptability of such behavior."
We hadn't known each other long, so Shinra-san hadn't quite accepted that I knew how to adjust my behavior to the situation. She hadn't yet put the pieces together: I was more open, cheerful, and candid with them, polite and friendly with the teachers, and cold and indifferent toward the other students.
Hypocrisy and calculation were part of me too, yes. A long life… many long lives force you to reconsider things like honesty and openness in your dealings with the world at large. Being friendly to everyone you meet, going out of your way to make each of them feel good—that's wasteful and stupid. Ordinary, impersonal courtesy is quite enough to keep the trash happy.
Only people who matter to me deserve that extra attention—whether because I like them or because they can affect how comfortably I live. So I'm hardly going to mouth off to Serafall Leviathan or other powerful demons, or shamelessly brag in front of Sona-sama's parents. It all depends on the circumstances, of course, but I have no intention of getting myself—or House Sitri—into trouble through sheer stupidity.
Well, I figured we just needed a little more time to get used to one another, and our Queen would stop giving me sidelong looks, waiting for me to pull something. I'd been known as a quiet, unsociable guy before all this, after all—not some out-of-control psycho.
"So if you win, you get tea, and if I win, I get to keep it? That sounds outrageously unfair! Worse, it's daylight robbery! You truly are a demon, Tomoe! Senpai"—I pretended to wipe away a tear—"I'll follow your example in everything!"
"You bet!" She stuck her nose in the air, grinning broadly.
"Let's give you some real motivation: if you beat me, every member of the student council gets a packet of tea. Which means that if you lose, Sitri-sama…"
"Sona!" There was a hint of steel in my Lady's voice this time, and her violet eyes were stern, perhaps even a little hurt. I decided it was time to stop teasing her.
"Yes, forgive me." I gave the boss a brief, apologetic nod, then turned back to Tomoe. "If you don't beat me, you'll be depriving Sona-san of a packet of tea. And for a good servant, there's nothing worse than letting our Lady down…"
"Ummm…" Tomoe's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she cracked her knuckles for effect. "You've just dug your own grave. For Sona-san and tea—no mercy!"
"I'm all fired up!" Tsubasa chimed in, going through a few warm-up movements as Momo laughed softly. Even shy little Reya wore a sweet, bashful smile.
"Perhaps you could get started?" The Queen subtly reminded us that we'd spent a good five minutes chatting instead of getting on with our merciless battle. I was particularly pleased by Sitri-sama's warm gaze and gentle smile as she watched us, apparently enjoying our banter.
"All right." I dropped the smile and twirled the bo in one hand. "Get ready, ladies. Here I come."
For form's sake, I gave my clanmates another couple of seconds to register what I'd said. Then I channeled qi into my muscles and shot toward Reya.
Youngsters… Experienced fighters? Yeah… Not by my standards. No offense, but they were woefully short on experience. Even after I'd announced whom I was going to attack first, they hadn't changed their formation. So Tomoe had to dash out to intercept me as I rushed toward my first target. I only mention our Knight because Tsubasa was lagging hopelessly behind.
We closed the gap at insane speed, meeting halfway to the Bishop in under a second. And Tomoe didn't disappoint. A serious gaze without a trace of amusement, a swift strike that would have been fatal to a human—and would have taken my head off if I hadn't been a Rook and reacted in time. Unfortunately for Tomoe, I was fast too.
Blocking her attack with my bo would waste time. I could do it, of course, but there was an easier way… "Steel Shirt." A technique from the lower stages of cultivation, but perfect for fighting an armed opponent who had no techniques for enhancing their weapon. To conserve energy, I kept the "Shirt" active only on my left arm. A quick slap to the flat of the katana knocked it a few centimeters off course—just enough for me to lean aside and slip past her.
Another burst of speed. I ducked beneath the fireball my target had launched at me and dodged an icicle conjured by Momo. One step, another, qi into my leg muscles—and another dash.
Reya was right in front of me. I swung my bo, and her eyes went wide with fear. She squeezed them shut a moment before impact, and I grimaced. What kind of reaction to danger was that? Tsubaki cried out, but Sona-san reined her in as I lightly tapped Reya's forehead with the butt of my bo. A pulse of neutral qi. Reya slumped to the ground, unconscious. No physical damage, but she'd be a little dizzy when she came to.
Tomoe caught up and came at me from behind, but I easily leaped clear of her overly wide swing, whipping the hem of my pao across her eyes. I landed, turned toward the remaining Bishop, and dashed forward, dodging another of Momo's icicles. Behind me came the sound of shattering ice and a quiet curse. Friendly fire, huh.
"Sorry, Tomoe!" the white-haired girl shouted, while I sighed inwardly and met a blow from Tsubasa with a hard block. We'd finally crossed paths. Who wastes time babbling in the middle of a fight? Bad! Bad for them.
Tsubasa, incidentally, had stopped messing around and was hitting with everything she had. Not bad. A solid blow sent me skidding a couple of meters backward, where Tomoe was waiting. Excellent.
She didn't repeat her mistake with those wide swings, instead unleashing a flurry of rapid thrusts and slashes. So far, I had the fewest complaints about Tomoe.
A focused gaze, precise, economical movements—she was trying to keep me occupied with a steady stream of attacks so the Rook could land a crushing blow. No need to rush, I figured. The girls needed to get a feel for what it was like to fight a truly experienced opponent.
I advanced toward Momo at an unhurried pace, using my bo only to bat away her icicles. That, incidentally, revealed an obvious weakness in our support fighters. Even I knew there were spells that could slow or disorient an enemy. Nets, for instance, ice on the ground, patches of mud. But our mage just kept attacking. Bad.
As for our melee fighters… As I'd said, I was pleased with Tomoe. Tsubasa knew how to fight alongside her, but got too carried away. I was using the Yellow Cobra Dancing Among Falling Leaves style, also known as "Abundance of Disappointment." A very economical style, designed for fast, flexible fighters who moved fluidly and kept track of everything around them. Every blow from Tsubasa, every strike of Tomoe's katana almost found its mark. Almost.
They often came within millimeters of hitting me, but I slipped away every time. Tsubasa's face would light up with delight just before what she thought was a certain hit, only to twist in utter disappointment when her attack found empty air again. From the outside, I imagined, it must have looked like they were fighting a deranged gymnast performing wild pirouettes. Light, economical touches to turn the blade aside, glancing blocks, feints and dodges no ordinary human could pull off. I even began to smile as I settled into a state of active meditation.
Yes, they were strong opponents, and I was enjoying our fight, but unfortunately, they lacked experience. That added a touch of bitter disappointment. It was a shame Sona-sama hadn't let her Queen join in. Tsubaki-san might have helped the girls win, or at least made me work a lot harder. As it was… I hadn't even used Reflection of Might, because that would have taken all the fun out of it.
Still, it was time to wrap things up—a show of strength shouldn't look like bullying. I wasn't out to humiliate them, anyway. I leaped three meters into the air, a katana blade whistling past barely a millimeter away, then formed a platform of qi and pushed off it toward Momo. I was running on air. You know those ridiculous leaps in Chinese movies, where actors fly dozens of meters with their legs pedaling away? In my case, it looked like actual running, because I wasn't dangling from wires: with every step, I pushed off a solid, if invisible, surface.
Oh, so Tomoe could swear after all. How unexpected. I'd punish her for that later. I dropped to the ground. Only a couple of meters to Momo, and the Knight couldn't get there in time. I drew back my bo… Something was wrong. I caught the look in our mage's eyes. A gleam of satisfaction, a smile of anticipation. Who warns the enemy like that? I activated Shroud of Might an instant before a magic circle flared beneath my feet. Bitter cold gripped me, and a heartbeat later I was trapped in a block of ice. Good! Except she'd given her trap away with that triumphant gleam in her eyes and childlike smile. Still, she was a clever girl—eight out of ten.
Through the ice, I heard the girls cheering. Too soon, girls, too soon. Burst of Might—and my prison shattered. I darted forward, gently slipped my right arm around the white-haired girl's waist from behind, and lightly touched her temple with my left hand.
"Well done," I whispered in her ear before knocking her out with a pulse of qi and carefully lowering her to the ground as Tsubasa let out a furious, frustrated cry.
"Taro!!!" Uh-oh. Tomoe was really worked up now, charging at me with her katana raised to strike. Her brows were knotted in anger, and her eyes flashed with real menace. A pity. She'd let herself get carried away after all, leaving Tsubasa behind and apparently forgetting in the heat of battle that she was next.
My bo was sticking out of a block of ice, and I decided to leave it there. It had been practically useless in this fight anyway. After all, clobbering my clanmates with a metal pole was… a bit much.
I closed with the Knight, watching the approaching Rook out of the corner of my eye. She wouldn't make it in time. Tomoe thrust at me. I activated Steel Shirt over my entire body, trapped her blade under my left arm, and struck her forehead sharply with my right palm. A pulse of qi, and she fell.
"Ah…" I sighed in disappointment as I walked toward Tsubasa. "Looks like you've cost Sona-san her tea, girls."
"Quit showing off—" My senpai never got to finish: I was already beside her. A Rook's immense strength was all well and good. Pity about the speed. On her own, she was simply no match for me, so with one sinuous movement, I touched her forehead with the fingertips of my right hand and went still, holding her gaze.
"You've lost, Tsubasa-san." I smiled without a trace of mockery, trying to make my gaze as warm as possible. "But it wasn't a bad fight."
"Just who are you?" she asked, letting her arms drop in disappointment.
"Chiba Taro, your kohai." This time, I let a hint of amusement into my voice. The Rook merely snorted.
"Would you take Tomoe-san? I'll carry Momo-san."
"Are they all right?" Concern crept into her voice. "What kind of technique is that, anyway?"
"They're fine. They'll just be a little dizzy when I bring them around. Reya-chan should wake up on her own any moment now." I carefully lifted the white-haired girl into my arms, pausing for a moment in admiration. Momo was a rare beauty, and back in the student council office, she treated all of us with such touching warmth. No wonder Genshiro-kun and I sometimes found ourselves gazing at her. I was discreet about it, but our secretary sometimes just stared in open admiration.
Then again, that goes for all of Sitri-san's servants. And our Lady herself can be surprisingly charming, too. I glanced around at the girls.
They were all beautiful. Strict, serious Tsubaki; sweet, shy Reya; spirited, slightly brusque Tsubasa; endlessly cheerful Tomoe; Momo with her endearing thoughtfulness; and regal, beautiful Sitri Sona, always seeming just a little sad, with those fathomlessly deep violet eyes and that unfailingly warm smile.
I chuckled quietly to myself. For perhaps the first time since coming to Kuoh, I really felt like I was in a garden of beauties.
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
"How is that even possible?" It was all Genshiro-kun could say, and his dejected expression made Tsubaki a little worried about him.
Genshiro hadn't put up much of a fight in his first sparring match, so the girls had encouraged and reassured him, telling him he'd done fairly well for his first time. But the contrast between his performance and what Chiba was doing now made Genshiro-kun's dejection and disappointment easy to understand.
Their Lady, meanwhile, watched calmly but intently. The student council president's keen gaze seemed to weigh and assess every aspect of the fight, every participant.
Tsubaki knew Sitri Sona was a genius. Knew it and was proud of her. Admired her and loved her. Respected her abilities and her keen mind. The Queen had no doubt that once this training session was over, her Lady would have words of encouragement or praise for everyone involved, along with a few gentle rebukes. Even for that… Taro.
Now there's a demon in the human sense of the word, she thought, trying once again to calm herself. A smile of strange delight had just flickered across the boy's face as a katana blade whistled past barely a millimeter from his throat. It was a shame her Lady hadn't let her join the sparring match—this Chiba was far too strong. Astonishingly strong. Impossibly strong, perhaps. A newborn demon who'd been mortal only a week ago simply couldn't fight that well.
And it wasn't even about skill. No matter how good a fighter a mortal had been, adapting to his new capabilities so quickly was impossible! Demons fought at entirely different speeds, with an entirely different level of strength. Many techniques from human martial arts became utterly useless. But this… this… Taro! He seemed to know exactly what to do and how to do it, without the slightest discomfort.
It was one thing to catch a Fallen off guard or exploit Tsubasa's mistake, but to fight four demons who'd been training for quite some time? You'd have to be a genius! Who even was he? How could he be so strong?
And cocky, too, Tsubaki thought, her cheek twitching in irritation as Taro once again turned Meguri Tomoe's katana aside with his palm and winked playfully at the swordswoman. He was clearly showing off.
He parried every sword strike with his bare hands, sharply slapping the flat of the katana to knock it a few centimeters off course—just as far as he needed. Chiba moved like a snake, twisting at impossible angles and darting in short, swift bursts, dodging blows and gently guiding his opponents' attacks aside. But never striking back. He was making his way toward his second target; the first was already lying unconscious on the ground.
Both Tsubasa and Tomoe were doing everything they could to keep Taro from reaching the second Bishop, but he kept advancing toward Momo, unhurried yet unstoppable, as though to taunt them. With casual sweeps of his bo staff, he batted aside her ice projectiles.
To be honest, the vice president had been certain at first that the four of them could handle Taro. She'd volunteered because she'd wanted to personally… take him down a peg. The boy was far too sure of himself. Not a bad person, though. Far from it. He was always polite to everyone, sweet and considerate toward the girls, and careful with his language. Since Tsubaki had asked, he'd even stopped calling everyone outside the student council trash. Quite so often, anyway…
But everything else… His cold detachment outside the student council rooms, his utter indifference to his classmates, that constant, irritated "It doesn't matter" whenever something didn't directly concern House Sitri or his family. And, of course, his unshakable, infuriating confidence in his own abilities.
Though perhaps that last part isn't just empty bravado after all, she admitted to herself with a hint of annoyance as Taro executed another swift, graceful pirouette, evading three attacks at once and advancing several more meters toward the white-haired Momo, who was visibly nervous. She was his second target, after all.
"Ladies," I said, looking at the student council members with all the anticipation of a cat eyeing a bowl of cream. After a brief, hushed discussion, Sona-san's servants were moving to their agreed positions. Bishops on the flanks, Knight and Rook in the center. "My first target will be Reya-chan, followed by Momo-san. Then I'll attack Tomoe, and finally Tsubasa-san. I won't attack any of you out of turn. Just defense—blocks, dodges, parries."
"Oh." Reya shot me a nervous glance, but I merely smiled reassuringly and winked.
"You're getting a little too full of yourself," Tomoe grumbled, frowning slightly. "You should listen to our Lady! Although…" The trace of annoyance on the mischievous girl's face vanished in an instant, replaced by a broad smile and a playful gleam in her eyes. "Actually, that'll just make it easier for us to thrash you, Taro! Let's add a prize to make things interesting! If we win, you give each of us a packet of your tea! Well? What do you say?"
A morning cup of my tea had, incidentally, become something of a tradition over the past week. Genshiro, the girls, and I would gather for tea before classes, and I was actually rather pleased about it. You see, apart from our secretary-kun, everyone there was… well, very cute. Something for every taste, as they say. Different personalities, different looks, but all of them pleasant company and easy on the eyes.
Tsubaki started each morning looking stern, but every sip brought a faint smile to her lips, her eyes narrowing slightly in pleasure. She often gave me looks I couldn't quite decipher, tried to tease me or rein me in when I got carried away, but there was no real malice in it. I figured it came from her overdeveloped sense of responsibility and her concern for the members of our little clan.
As I'd said more than once, she was beautiful and serious. She reminded me of a strict but endearingly caring kindergarten teacher. An inexperienced one, though. Tsubaki was clearly following our Lady's example, but taking it a little too far. Where Sona-san needed only a reproachful look from those deep violet eyes and a slight, disapproving shake of her head to make you squirm with shame, Shinra-san could launch into a ten-minute lecture on, say, "the unacceptability of such behavior."
We hadn't known each other long, so Shinra-san hadn't quite accepted that I knew how to adjust my behavior to the situation. She hadn't yet put the pieces together: I was more open, cheerful, and candid with them, polite and friendly with the teachers, and cold and indifferent toward the other students.
Hypocrisy and calculation were part of me too, yes. A long life… many long lives force you to reconsider things like honesty and openness in your dealings with the world at large. Being friendly to everyone you meet, going out of your way to make each of them feel good—that's wasteful and stupid. Ordinary, impersonal courtesy is quite enough to keep the trash happy.
Only people who matter to me deserve that extra attention—whether because I like them or because they can affect how comfortably I live. So I'm hardly going to mouth off to Serafall Leviathan or other powerful demons, or shamelessly brag in front of Sona-sama's parents. It all depends on the circumstances, of course, but I have no intention of getting myself—or House Sitri—into trouble through sheer stupidity.
Well, I figured we just needed a little more time to get used to one another, and our Queen would stop giving me sidelong looks, waiting for me to pull something. I'd been known as a quiet, unsociable guy before all this, after all—not some out-of-control psycho.
"So if you win, you get tea, and if I win, I get to keep it? That sounds outrageously unfair! Worse, it's daylight robbery! You truly are a demon, Tomoe! Senpai"—I pretended to wipe away a tear—"I'll follow your example in everything!"
"You bet!" She stuck her nose in the air, grinning broadly.
"Let's give you some real motivation: if you beat me, every member of the student council gets a packet of tea. Which means that if you lose, Sitri-sama…"
"Sona!" There was a hint of steel in my Lady's voice this time, and her violet eyes were stern, perhaps even a little hurt. I decided it was time to stop teasing her.
"Yes, forgive me." I gave the boss a brief, apologetic nod, then turned back to Tomoe. "If you don't beat me, you'll be depriving Sona-san of a packet of tea. And for a good servant, there's nothing worse than letting our Lady down…"
"Ummm…" Tomoe's eyes sparkled with mischief, and she cracked her knuckles for effect. "You've just dug your own grave. For Sona-san and tea—no mercy!"
"I'm all fired up!" Tsubasa chimed in, going through a few warm-up movements as Momo laughed softly. Even shy little Reya wore a sweet, bashful smile.
"Perhaps you could get started?" The Queen subtly reminded us that we'd spent a good five minutes chatting instead of getting on with our merciless battle. I was particularly pleased by Sitri-sama's warm gaze and gentle smile as she watched us, apparently enjoying our banter.
"All right." I dropped the smile and twirled the bo in one hand. "Get ready, ladies. Here I come."
For form's sake, I gave my clanmates another couple of seconds to register what I'd said. Then I channeled qi into my muscles and shot toward Reya.
Youngsters… Experienced fighters? Yeah… Not by my standards. No offense, but they were woefully short on experience. Even after I'd announced whom I was going to attack first, they hadn't changed their formation. So Tomoe had to dash out to intercept me as I rushed toward my first target. I only mention our Knight because Tsubasa was lagging hopelessly behind.
We closed the gap at insane speed, meeting halfway to the Bishop in under a second. And Tomoe didn't disappoint. A serious gaze without a trace of amusement, a swift strike that would have been fatal to a human—and would have taken my head off if I hadn't been a Rook and reacted in time. Unfortunately for Tomoe, I was fast too.
Blocking her attack with my bo would waste time. I could do it, of course, but there was an easier way… "Steel Shirt." A technique from the lower stages of cultivation, but perfect for fighting an armed opponent who had no techniques for enhancing their weapon. To conserve energy, I kept the "Shirt" active only on my left arm. A quick slap to the flat of the katana knocked it a few centimeters off course—just enough for me to lean aside and slip past her.
Another burst of speed. I ducked beneath the fireball my target had launched at me and dodged an icicle conjured by Momo. One step, another, qi into my leg muscles—and another dash.
Reya was right in front of me. I swung my bo, and her eyes went wide with fear. She squeezed them shut a moment before impact, and I grimaced. What kind of reaction to danger was that? Tsubaki cried out, but Sona-san reined her in as I lightly tapped Reya's forehead with the butt of my bo. A pulse of neutral qi. Reya slumped to the ground, unconscious. No physical damage, but she'd be a little dizzy when she came to.
Tomoe caught up and came at me from behind, but I easily leaped clear of her overly wide swing, whipping the hem of my pao across her eyes. I landed, turned toward the remaining Bishop, and dashed forward, dodging another of Momo's icicles. Behind me came the sound of shattering ice and a quiet curse. Friendly fire, huh.
"Sorry, Tomoe!" the white-haired girl shouted, while I sighed inwardly and met a blow from Tsubasa with a hard block. We'd finally crossed paths. Who wastes time babbling in the middle of a fight? Bad! Bad for them.
Tsubasa, incidentally, had stopped messing around and was hitting with everything she had. Not bad. A solid blow sent me skidding a couple of meters backward, where Tomoe was waiting. Excellent.
She didn't repeat her mistake with those wide swings, instead unleashing a flurry of rapid thrusts and slashes. So far, I had the fewest complaints about Tomoe.
A focused gaze, precise, economical movements—she was trying to keep me occupied with a steady stream of attacks so the Rook could land a crushing blow. No need to rush, I figured. The girls needed to get a feel for what it was like to fight a truly experienced opponent.
I advanced toward Momo at an unhurried pace, using my bo only to bat away her icicles. That, incidentally, revealed an obvious weakness in our support fighters. Even I knew there were spells that could slow or disorient an enemy. Nets, for instance, ice on the ground, patches of mud. But our mage just kept attacking. Bad.
As for our melee fighters… As I'd said, I was pleased with Tomoe. Tsubasa knew how to fight alongside her, but got too carried away. I was using the Yellow Cobra Dancing Among Falling Leaves style, also known as "Abundance of Disappointment." A very economical style, designed for fast, flexible fighters who moved fluidly and kept track of everything around them. Every blow from Tsubasa, every strike of Tomoe's katana almost found its mark. Almost.
They often came within millimeters of hitting me, but I slipped away every time. Tsubasa's face would light up with delight just before what she thought was a certain hit, only to twist in utter disappointment when her attack found empty air again. From the outside, I imagined, it must have looked like they were fighting a deranged gymnast performing wild pirouettes. Light, economical touches to turn the blade aside, glancing blocks, feints and dodges no ordinary human could pull off. I even began to smile as I settled into a state of active meditation.
Yes, they were strong opponents, and I was enjoying our fight, but unfortunately, they lacked experience. That added a touch of bitter disappointment. It was a shame Sona-sama hadn't let her Queen join in. Tsubaki-san might have helped the girls win, or at least made me work a lot harder. As it was… I hadn't even used Reflection of Might, because that would have taken all the fun out of it.
Still, it was time to wrap things up—a show of strength shouldn't look like bullying. I wasn't out to humiliate them, anyway. I leaped three meters into the air, a katana blade whistling past barely a millimeter away, then formed a platform of qi and pushed off it toward Momo. I was running on air. You know those ridiculous leaps in Chinese movies, where actors fly dozens of meters with their legs pedaling away? In my case, it looked like actual running, because I wasn't dangling from wires: with every step, I pushed off a solid, if invisible, surface.
Oh, so Tomoe could swear after all. How unexpected. I'd punish her for that later. I dropped to the ground. Only a couple of meters to Momo, and the Knight couldn't get there in time. I drew back my bo… Something was wrong. I caught the look in our mage's eyes. A gleam of satisfaction, a smile of anticipation. Who warns the enemy like that? I activated Shroud of Might an instant before a magic circle flared beneath my feet. Bitter cold gripped me, and a heartbeat later I was trapped in a block of ice. Good! Except she'd given her trap away with that triumphant gleam in her eyes and childlike smile. Still, she was a clever girl—eight out of ten.
Through the ice, I heard the girls cheering. Too soon, girls, too soon. Burst of Might—and my prison shattered. I darted forward, gently slipped my right arm around the white-haired girl's waist from behind, and lightly touched her temple with my left hand.
"Well done," I whispered in her ear before knocking her out with a pulse of qi and carefully lowering her to the ground as Tsubasa let out a furious, frustrated cry.
"Taro!!!" Uh-oh. Tomoe was really worked up now, charging at me with her katana raised to strike. Her brows were knotted in anger, and her eyes flashed with real menace. A pity. She'd let herself get carried away after all, leaving Tsubasa behind and apparently forgetting in the heat of battle that she was next.
My bo was sticking out of a block of ice, and I decided to leave it there. It had been practically useless in this fight anyway. After all, clobbering my clanmates with a metal pole was… a bit much.
I closed with the Knight, watching the approaching Rook out of the corner of my eye. She wouldn't make it in time. Tomoe thrust at me. I activated Steel Shirt over my entire body, trapped her blade under my left arm, and struck her forehead sharply with my right palm. A pulse of qi, and she fell.
"Ah…" I sighed in disappointment as I walked toward Tsubasa. "Looks like you've cost Sona-san her tea, girls."
"Quit showing off—" My senpai never got to finish: I was already beside her. A Rook's immense strength was all well and good. Pity about the speed. On her own, she was simply no match for me, so with one sinuous movement, I touched her forehead with the fingertips of my right hand and went still, holding her gaze.
"You've lost, Tsubasa-san." I smiled without a trace of mockery, trying to make my gaze as warm as possible. "But it wasn't a bad fight."
"Just who are you?" she asked, letting her arms drop in disappointment.
"Chiba Taro, your kohai." This time, I let a hint of amusement into my voice. The Rook merely snorted.
"Would you take Tomoe-san? I'll carry Momo-san."
"Are they all right?" Concern crept into her voice. "What kind of technique is that, anyway?"
"They're fine. They'll just be a little dizzy when I bring them around. Reya-chan should wake up on her own any moment now." I carefully lifted the white-haired girl into my arms, pausing for a moment in admiration. Momo was a rare beauty, and back in the student council office, she treated all of us with such touching warmth. No wonder Genshiro-kun and I sometimes found ourselves gazing at her. I was discreet about it, but our secretary sometimes just stared in open admiration.
Then again, that goes for all of Sitri-san's servants. And our Lady herself can be surprisingly charming, too. I glanced around at the girls.
They were all beautiful. Strict, serious Tsubaki; sweet, shy Reya; spirited, slightly brusque Tsubasa; endlessly cheerful Tomoe; Momo with her endearing thoughtfulness; and regal, beautiful Sitri Sona, always seeming just a little sad, with those fathomlessly deep violet eyes and that unfailingly warm smile.
I chuckled quietly to myself. For perhaps the first time since coming to Kuoh, I really felt like I was in a garden of beauties.
Original Russian story
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Chapter 10
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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"Trash! You lucky bastard! You dumb son of a bitch! Spawn of a syphilitic donkey and an opium-addled monkey!" I had the night off, and I was "living it up."
All the girls were out fulfilling contracts, except for the president, who was sorting through paperwork at her desk. Even Genshiro had gone off to see a regular client. As for me… "There's nothing for you today. You can relax," Sitri-sama had told me with that gentle, lovely smile of hers.
And so the ancient cultivator decided to obey his charming Lady. In other words, I thought, Why not take a few hours to relax with some light meditation and a bit of manga?
No sooner said than done. I ran over to the nearest little shop selling all sorts of reading material… and stopped dead in front of a shelf stocked with Chinese xianxia.
My fingers practically itched to grab those books. At the beginning of this life, I'd had absolutely no desire to read xianxia (I'd only just returned from the cultivation worlds, after all), and afterward, I'd been too busy to get around to it. But now a sudden, irresistible wave of nostalgia came crashing over me!
"Good evening, customer-san." A girl about my age appeared out of nowhere.
And may the Nine Heavens come crashing down on my head if I'd seen her coming. One moment, I was standing there alone, looking over the stacks of books, and the next—bam—she was right beside me. I actually jumped and stared at her in surprise.
"Kiryu-san?" I recognized her from the class I shared with Ise. A sharp-tongued girl who took great pleasure in trolling the Perverted Trio.
"Oh!" Her eyes widened in recognition. "Chiba-san! Gloomy Taro! The Brooding Untouchable! The Silent Prince! The Eternal Virgin!"
"Say what?" My voice actually shot up into a falsetto at that last nickname. Kiryu Aika's snark rating instantly went up a few points in my book.
We stood in silence for about five seconds. I was a little… surprised, yes. She broke the awkward silence, adjusting her pink-framed glasses.
"You didn't hear a thing." Her lenses flashed as she put on a deadly serious face. "That's girl talk."
"Hmm… all right," I quickly agreed. I really didn't want to know anything about those nicknames. Better for my peace of mind. "Do you work here part-time?"
"Yep, yep, raking in all the money in the world!" She flashed me a broad grin. "Need any help?"
"I guess." I glanced back at the shelves of Chinese fiction. "Thought I'd give this genre a try. Anything you'd recommend?"
"Of course, of course! It's not every day the quietest guy in school talks to you!" She tossed her head, her chestnut braids swinging and her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You've come to the right place, customer-san!"
In the end, I did buy one of the titles Kiryu Aika recommended. And now I was quietly spewing a torrent of bile at it—the book, that is—trying not to disturb my Lady and barely keeping myself from coughing up blood. The protagonist stirred up such a storm of hatred in me that I desperately wanted to dive into that xianxia world and kill him in the cruelest, most twisted way imaginable. Maybe even more than once! And not just him, either!
"Taro-kun."
I met the student council president's eyes as she sorted through papers on one of the shelves in the filing cabinet.
"Sorry, Sona-san. I got carried away…"
"It's all right." Her soft, serene smile once again sent a small wave of affection through me. "What made you so angry?"
My Lady took a folder from the section for academy clubs and walked over to my armchair to peer over my shoulder at the Chinese comic.
"The protagonist." I exhaled slowly to keep myself from launching into another stream of abuse. "A vile creature if ever there was one. He's so revolting that I'm honestly rooting for the local villain. That man is just a powerful cultivator who earned everything through his own hard work. Yes, he's a despotic ruler! Yes, he rules through his own strength and that of his minions! But he's within his rights! Meanwhile, this lucky piece of trash… steals from his own people, strings along the girls who love him, and breaks his word! And he keeps getting lucky, lucky, lucky! Power just falls into his lap! Everywhere he goes, he meets a wise mentor, finds some ancient treasure, or rescues a girl who turns out to be a princess!!! Ugh!!! And that princess is a complete idiot! Her daddy is a bad man, apparently! She's spent her whole life wrapped in silk and velvet! Eats off golden plates! Gets anything she wants without the slightest trouble! But no! 'The people are suffering!' 'She can't bear to witness the plight of the common folk!' Bah!!!"
I flipped back about ten pages and showed her an illustration of the "impoverished village" where the protagonist had rescued that idiot, while Sona-san poured tea into our cups with a thoughtful smile.
"In the end, the very people that stupid hen had decided to help tried to rob, rape, and murder her." Irritated, I jabbed a finger at a little house with a broken window. "'Desperation drove them to a life of crime!' 'They can't even afford to replace the glass!' she cries, lamenting the hardships of that trash! Glass! In a village!!! Not everyone there even has ox bladder to cover their windows!!! The streets are clean, and they have lanterns! In a village!!! This Evil Villain must be a saint if the peasants in his villages live in such luxury! Spoiled scum!!! And what do thieves get—a flogging? Why aren't they sent to the mines? To a logging camp? They flog them in the town square and let them go! They even walk away on their own two feet, merely staggering! They don't even have to be carried off with their backs flayed to bloody ribbons!"
I huffed angrily for a couple of seconds, then let the anger go and calmed down. So much for relaxing. Still, sometimes you had to let your emotions out.
"It's only manga." My Lady chuckled softly and set a cup of freshly brewed tea in front of me. "You shouldn't take these things so seriously. A different world has different customs, after all, and this is a fictional story about people who don't exist. A reader needs to be able to make allowances, if only for the sake of their own nerves. I doubt the author has ever visited another world. Not everyone has the kind of experience you do, Taro-kun."
"Thank you, Sona-san." I bowed my head politely, accepted the cup of fragrant, steaming tea, and smiled as she sat down across from me. The folder lay on the small table, and a matching cup of tea stood before the president. "How long ago did you figure it out?"
"I've been almost certain for some time now. You're far too knowledgeable and accomplished to be an ordinary schoolboy. Even a genius couldn't be so skilled in combat and command so many… techniques. I've never heard of martial artists who use qigong showing such strength and skill, either. There are similar practitioners in China, but even the strongest nonhuman practitioners come nowhere near your level. House Sitri knows how to find information and ask the right questions."
The girl took a sip of tea, watching me through her glasses.
"You're a blacksmith who forged his own bo staff, and you sewed your pao so well that I couldn't even tell at first that it was handmade… You can embroider too, which is truly remarkable." Sona-san's quiet laugh was wonderfully melodic and held no trace of mockery. "Your qi-infused tea, pharmacology and alchemy, how quickly you adapted to your new power, your techniques and mastery in combat… You gave me far too many clues. No one your age could possibly be so accomplished in so many different fields—there simply hasn't been enough time. Then there's your peculiar knowledge of things long forgotten even in China, and some of your turns of phrase are positively archaic. What is your real name?"
"Chiba Taro." I smiled at the clever girl. "I am Chiba Taro, Japanese by birth and a student of this academy. A reincarnator who recovered his former memories at a young age."
"Memories of a life in another world?" Sitri-sama nodded, thoughtfully tapping the tabletop with the pad of her index finger.
"Lives in other worlds," I corrected her, watching her eyebrows rise in charming surprise.
"Oh, really…" She took another sip of tea, her beautiful eyes regarding me with renewed interest. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trusting me." Her warm smile drew an answering smile from me.
"I wasn't exactly trying very hard to hide it. Questions were bound to arise sooner or later. Still, I'm surprised you waited so long to ask me about my peculiarities. And that you guessed my memories came from other worlds rather than this world's past…"
"I was enjoying the challenge of solving your mystery." The satisfied gleam in her violet eyes made it clear she was enjoying herself. "As I gathered more information about you, I discarded one theory after another until only a few remained… the ones that seemed closest to the truth. And strange as it may sound, another world seemed more plausible to me than this world's past. Demons live for a very long time, yet even my elder relatives had never heard of qigong masters as powerful as you."
"A flexible mind gives even the most fantastical possibilities serious consideration." I inclined my head to her respectfully.
"I was born a demon, after all. By mortal standards, I'm something of a mystical character from an old fairy tale myself. Besides, we know for a fact that other worlds exist, and you do bear a striking resemblance to certain fictional heroes from…" Her gaze dropped pointedly to the volume of xianxia, and I actually bristled.
"Oh, absolutely not!" I snorted, making my opinion of the story's protagonist abundantly clear. "I may not be what anyone would call a good man, but I'm certainly nothing like that lucky son of a—bad person! Even when fighting Evil, one ought to have some moral boundaries."
"What about the Evil Villain?" the girl asked with a gentle smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Well…" I considered it for a few seconds. "Yes, that's closer. There are certain similarities, but… I was harsher. And to screw up that badly, that often… Still, you're right. This isn't a serious account based on real events; it's entertainment."
"So you've been a ruler as well?"
"I have," I admitted with a slight grimace. "It wasn't the most pleasant experience. There was never enough time for anything; finding competent people was sheer agony; everyone around me was consumed by envy; people tried to poison me with impressive regularity; problems came from every direction; and attention from women was almost always driven by self-interest and a hunger for power. In short, I didn't enjoy being the ruler myself—far too much hassle. Another time, though, my wife ruled, and that wasn't bad at all. At first, I had to go out and beat the conspirators' faces in and tear the heads off anyone trying to worm his way into my wife's bed, but after a decade or so, everything settled down and I hardly ever had to take time away from my cultivation."
"You were married? And you handed control of an entire country… to your wife?" The student council president's surprise was unusually plain on her face.
"Of course I was." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, sinking into old memories. "I'm human, after all. And she was beautiful, intelligent, superbly educated, and possessed impeccable manners. Her competence in governing a country was beyond question as well. She had a natural gift for ruling and a sincere desire to improve her nation. I must admit, she far surpassed me in that regard. I served her father, who warmly welcomed the region's strongest martial artist to his court. That was where I met his daughter. She was only five at the time—a delightful child, bright, inquisitive, and remarkably sensible, who grew into an admirable woman."
"Five? How old was she when you married?" I thought I detected judgment and mild disapproval in the president's question.
"Seventeen." I snorted, giving Sona-san a mildly reproachful look. "The customs in those worlds were certainly very different from those of this one, but little girls have never held any appeal for me. Though her father started trying to marry us off when she was twelve. He was a very intelligent and cunning man. He saw that ruling the country held no interest for me, and since he had only one child—a daughter…"
"He decided to marry the two of you so she would be the one to rule."
"Exactly. As for everyone who objected to the daughter of the Sun Emperor, Shaker of the Universe, Lord of Heaven and Earth marrying some cultivator born in a little village on the frontier… I persuaded them otherwise."
"Did they survive?" That mischievous glint returned to her eyes, accompanied by a faint smile.
"Not all of them."
"The aristocracy must have been displeased."
"No one cares about the displeasure of worthless trash." I snorted contemptuously, remembering how they had tried to throw obstacles in our path. "A few dozen public duels to the death, a couple of punitive raids, one suppressed uprising by the rabble, one ancestral castle burned to the ground—and the rest shut their mouths. Power lies in Power. Whoever has Power is stronger."
The girl gave an almost inaudible snort, took another sip of tea, and fell silent in thought for a few seconds.
"And you were stronger because you remembered your previous lives." The president nodded, as if confirming her own conclusion.
"You are remarkably perceptive, my Lady. Your intellect is every bit as extraordinary as your beauty." I smiled warmly at her. She blushed rather sweetly and looked away.
"It was obvious, Taro-kun. There's no need to flatter me."
"Forgive me, Sona-san. I couldn't resist. But you truly are very beautiful and possess a formidable intellect."
"If you mention impeccable manners and an excellent education, I'll begin to suspect that your compliments have ulterior motives."
"Everyone has those." I shrugged with a carefree smile. "In every world, people try to get something from one another. You wanted my strength—a Piece for your clan who would be useful to you and your House. I wanted help growing stronger. You gave me endless life, a place to train, the promise of an alchemy laboratory, and permission to hunt in your lands. Not to mention housing, money, food, and tuition. For such magnificent compensation, one must serve conscientiously, lest one incur the wrath of the Universe. You are a generous Lady, an extraordinarily generous one. And I know what I'm talking about: in my previous lives, most cultivators would have gladly sold their souls to a demon for all that."
"Well, technically…" The girl coughed into her fist, giving me an amused look. "Isn't that exactly what happened?"
I stared at her in confusion for a couple of seconds, then couldn't hold it in and… burst out laughing. Sona-san's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The fit didn't last long, and she didn't seem offended, but her expression made it clear that she wanted to know what I found so funny.
"Forgive me, Sona-san." Once I had calmed down, I inclined my head, but the president merely waved away my apology and silently asked for an explanation. "In the cultivation worlds, the word 'demon' carries a very different meaning. To draw an analogy, you… or rather, we are inhabitants of one of the higher worlds. We are stronger than mortals, but not very different from them. The demons of the cultivation worlds, however… are Evil. Pure, concentrated Evil. There is nothing human about them. Nothing inside them but endless, all-consuming hunger and malice."
I swallowed. Memories I always tried to drive away flooded my mind's eye. Clenching my jaw, I sank a little deeper into meditation and calmed my thoughts.
"I know. I was their slave. I was the scourge of mankind. A demonic cultivator possessed by an artifact of the Abyss—the Staff of Four Demons. A calamity, a raging inferno of malice that devoured villages, cities, and entire nations. My hunger became so powerful that nothing else remained within me… And no amount of bloodshed could ever satisfy it."
"But you… broke free?" The girl's gaze was intent. A touch of youthful curiosity, compassion, and a hint of apprehension. Her eyes were so beautiful… as deep as a bottomless violet ocean.
"No." A crooked smile crept across my face of its own accord. "I was killed. Thousands of heroes—the mightiest cultivators—came to slay the Avatar of the Four Demons, knowing that many of them would never return alive… Worse, that they would lose their souls and remain forever in the stomachs of those who owned me at the time. For several reincarnations afterward, I was… not myself. Cruelty, fury, rage, violence—the lives that followed overflowed with them. So as far as I'm concerned, my Lady, your kind aren't demons at all. These contracts, where we grant human wishes in exchange for their life force, are child's play. People readily trade away their lives for alcohol and drugs. What are ten years of life to them in exchange for a dream come true? You don't even buy souls, as described in biblical writings."
"Well…" Sona-san hesitated slightly. The story had clearly left an impression on her.
"And as for selling my soul… becoming a demon…" I smiled. "That doesn't frighten me in any case. You see, when they enslaved me back then, my soul should have been destroyed—devoured. And yet… here I am, sitting before you. Later, demons or demonic cultivators killed me on other occasions, and it made no difference. I was simply born again."
"Taro-kun." My Lady leaned across the table and covered my hand with hers. For a split second, I thought she meant to comfort me, but then I met her intensely serious gaze. "Never tell anyone about this. Ever. I heard nothing. This is True Immortality. Some would take an interest in that, at the very least. To reincarnate, even in another world, with your memories intact, when your soul should have been destroyed…"
"Very well, my Lady." I met her eyes with a warm smile and gently squeezed her slender fingers for a moment. "Thank you. Once again, I'm reminded what a wonderful girl you are."
The heiress of House Sitri, now slightly flustered, sat upright again. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and reproach entered her gaze.
"You're taking this far too lightly for…" The girl faltered.
"For someone as ancient as I am?" I chuckled, noticing her grow even more flustered. Adorable. Truly, she was beautiful. "Don't worry, Sitri-san…"
"Sona," she corrected me, knitting her brows in displeasure.
"Sona-san." I inclined my head in apology. "Don't worry too much. The necessary arrays were built into my body long ago. An old design of mine. I started working on it after I grew tired of all that fun on torture tables. Unfortunately, you are far from the first person to view my reincarnations in that light. One pulse of qi, and this cultivator will pass on to his next life, while my enemies will be left with nothing but a corpse. One in less than ideal condition. But I'm deeply grateful to you—for your concern and your candor."
"So you told me all of that deliberately. Now I feel… rather foolish." All traces of embarrassment had left her face, replaced by her usual composure and a faint, pleasant smile tinged with reproach. She was clearly holding back the question: Why?
"There's… a great deal of warmth and trust in this clan. I like that, and I hope my candor will lay the foundation for mutual understanding between my Lady and me. According to Tsubaki-san, you know all your servants' secrets, and I haven't seen you exploit that knowledge for your own benefit at anyone else's expense."
"Tsubasa-chan is returning." My Lady glanced toward the teleportation circle on the floor as it began to glow. "I hope you won't mind if we talk more about… the cultivation worlds? I would be interested to hear about them."
"Of course, Sona-san. I will gladly assume the role of Scheherazade-kun." I smiled at her, drawing a brief, melodic laugh from the girl. "Besides, I have more tales than a thousand and one nights could ever hold…"
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
All the girls were out fulfilling contracts, except for the president, who was sorting through paperwork at her desk. Even Genshiro had gone off to see a regular client. As for me… "There's nothing for you today. You can relax," Sitri-sama had told me with that gentle, lovely smile of hers.
And so the ancient cultivator decided to obey his charming Lady. In other words, I thought, Why not take a few hours to relax with some light meditation and a bit of manga?
No sooner said than done. I ran over to the nearest little shop selling all sorts of reading material… and stopped dead in front of a shelf stocked with Chinese xianxia.
My fingers practically itched to grab those books. At the beginning of this life, I'd had absolutely no desire to read xianxia (I'd only just returned from the cultivation worlds, after all), and afterward, I'd been too busy to get around to it. But now a sudden, irresistible wave of nostalgia came crashing over me!
"Good evening, customer-san." A girl about my age appeared out of nowhere.
And may the Nine Heavens come crashing down on my head if I'd seen her coming. One moment, I was standing there alone, looking over the stacks of books, and the next—bam—she was right beside me. I actually jumped and stared at her in surprise.
"Kiryu-san?" I recognized her from the class I shared with Ise. A sharp-tongued girl who took great pleasure in trolling the Perverted Trio.
"Oh!" Her eyes widened in recognition. "Chiba-san! Gloomy Taro! The Brooding Untouchable! The Silent Prince! The Eternal Virgin!"
"Say what?" My voice actually shot up into a falsetto at that last nickname. Kiryu Aika's snark rating instantly went up a few points in my book.
We stood in silence for about five seconds. I was a little… surprised, yes. She broke the awkward silence, adjusting her pink-framed glasses.
"You didn't hear a thing." Her lenses flashed as she put on a deadly serious face. "That's girl talk."
"Hmm… all right," I quickly agreed. I really didn't want to know anything about those nicknames. Better for my peace of mind. "Do you work here part-time?"
"Yep, yep, raking in all the money in the world!" She flashed me a broad grin. "Need any help?"
"I guess." I glanced back at the shelves of Chinese fiction. "Thought I'd give this genre a try. Anything you'd recommend?"
"Of course, of course! It's not every day the quietest guy in school talks to you!" She tossed her head, her chestnut braids swinging and her eyes sparkling with amusement. "You've come to the right place, customer-san!"
In the end, I did buy one of the titles Kiryu Aika recommended. And now I was quietly spewing a torrent of bile at it—the book, that is—trying not to disturb my Lady and barely keeping myself from coughing up blood. The protagonist stirred up such a storm of hatred in me that I desperately wanted to dive into that xianxia world and kill him in the cruelest, most twisted way imaginable. Maybe even more than once! And not just him, either!
"Taro-kun."
I met the student council president's eyes as she sorted through papers on one of the shelves in the filing cabinet.
"Sorry, Sona-san. I got carried away…"
"It's all right." Her soft, serene smile once again sent a small wave of affection through me. "What made you so angry?"
My Lady took a folder from the section for academy clubs and walked over to my armchair to peer over my shoulder at the Chinese comic.
"The protagonist." I exhaled slowly to keep myself from launching into another stream of abuse. "A vile creature if ever there was one. He's so revolting that I'm honestly rooting for the local villain. That man is just a powerful cultivator who earned everything through his own hard work. Yes, he's a despotic ruler! Yes, he rules through his own strength and that of his minions! But he's within his rights! Meanwhile, this lucky piece of trash… steals from his own people, strings along the girls who love him, and breaks his word! And he keeps getting lucky, lucky, lucky! Power just falls into his lap! Everywhere he goes, he meets a wise mentor, finds some ancient treasure, or rescues a girl who turns out to be a princess!!! Ugh!!! And that princess is a complete idiot! Her daddy is a bad man, apparently! She's spent her whole life wrapped in silk and velvet! Eats off golden plates! Gets anything she wants without the slightest trouble! But no! 'The people are suffering!' 'She can't bear to witness the plight of the common folk!' Bah!!!"
I flipped back about ten pages and showed her an illustration of the "impoverished village" where the protagonist had rescued that idiot, while Sona-san poured tea into our cups with a thoughtful smile.
"In the end, the very people that stupid hen had decided to help tried to rob, rape, and murder her." Irritated, I jabbed a finger at a little house with a broken window. "'Desperation drove them to a life of crime!' 'They can't even afford to replace the glass!' she cries, lamenting the hardships of that trash! Glass! In a village!!! Not everyone there even has ox bladder to cover their windows!!! The streets are clean, and they have lanterns! In a village!!! This Evil Villain must be a saint if the peasants in his villages live in such luxury! Spoiled scum!!! And what do thieves get—a flogging? Why aren't they sent to the mines? To a logging camp? They flog them in the town square and let them go! They even walk away on their own two feet, merely staggering! They don't even have to be carried off with their backs flayed to bloody ribbons!"
I huffed angrily for a couple of seconds, then let the anger go and calmed down. So much for relaxing. Still, sometimes you had to let your emotions out.
"It's only manga." My Lady chuckled softly and set a cup of freshly brewed tea in front of me. "You shouldn't take these things so seriously. A different world has different customs, after all, and this is a fictional story about people who don't exist. A reader needs to be able to make allowances, if only for the sake of their own nerves. I doubt the author has ever visited another world. Not everyone has the kind of experience you do, Taro-kun."
"Thank you, Sona-san." I bowed my head politely, accepted the cup of fragrant, steaming tea, and smiled as she sat down across from me. The folder lay on the small table, and a matching cup of tea stood before the president. "How long ago did you figure it out?"
"I've been almost certain for some time now. You're far too knowledgeable and accomplished to be an ordinary schoolboy. Even a genius couldn't be so skilled in combat and command so many… techniques. I've never heard of martial artists who use qigong showing such strength and skill, either. There are similar practitioners in China, but even the strongest nonhuman practitioners come nowhere near your level. House Sitri knows how to find information and ask the right questions."
The girl took a sip of tea, watching me through her glasses.
"You're a blacksmith who forged his own bo staff, and you sewed your pao so well that I couldn't even tell at first that it was handmade… You can embroider too, which is truly remarkable." Sona-san's quiet laugh was wonderfully melodic and held no trace of mockery. "Your qi-infused tea, pharmacology and alchemy, how quickly you adapted to your new power, your techniques and mastery in combat… You gave me far too many clues. No one your age could possibly be so accomplished in so many different fields—there simply hasn't been enough time. Then there's your peculiar knowledge of things long forgotten even in China, and some of your turns of phrase are positively archaic. What is your real name?"
"Chiba Taro." I smiled at the clever girl. "I am Chiba Taro, Japanese by birth and a student of this academy. A reincarnator who recovered his former memories at a young age."
"Memories of a life in another world?" Sitri-sama nodded, thoughtfully tapping the tabletop with the pad of her index finger.
"Lives in other worlds," I corrected her, watching her eyebrows rise in charming surprise.
"Oh, really…" She took another sip of tea, her beautiful eyes regarding me with renewed interest. "Thank you."
"For what?"
"For trusting me." Her warm smile drew an answering smile from me.
"I wasn't exactly trying very hard to hide it. Questions were bound to arise sooner or later. Still, I'm surprised you waited so long to ask me about my peculiarities. And that you guessed my memories came from other worlds rather than this world's past…"
"I was enjoying the challenge of solving your mystery." The satisfied gleam in her violet eyes made it clear she was enjoying herself. "As I gathered more information about you, I discarded one theory after another until only a few remained… the ones that seemed closest to the truth. And strange as it may sound, another world seemed more plausible to me than this world's past. Demons live for a very long time, yet even my elder relatives had never heard of qigong masters as powerful as you."
"A flexible mind gives even the most fantastical possibilities serious consideration." I inclined my head to her respectfully.
"I was born a demon, after all. By mortal standards, I'm something of a mystical character from an old fairy tale myself. Besides, we know for a fact that other worlds exist, and you do bear a striking resemblance to certain fictional heroes from…" Her gaze dropped pointedly to the volume of xianxia, and I actually bristled.
"Oh, absolutely not!" I snorted, making my opinion of the story's protagonist abundantly clear. "I may not be what anyone would call a good man, but I'm certainly nothing like that lucky son of a—bad person! Even when fighting Evil, one ought to have some moral boundaries."
"What about the Evil Villain?" the girl asked with a gentle smile, a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"Well…" I considered it for a few seconds. "Yes, that's closer. There are certain similarities, but… I was harsher. And to screw up that badly, that often… Still, you're right. This isn't a serious account based on real events; it's entertainment."
"So you've been a ruler as well?"
"I have," I admitted with a slight grimace. "It wasn't the most pleasant experience. There was never enough time for anything; finding competent people was sheer agony; everyone around me was consumed by envy; people tried to poison me with impressive regularity; problems came from every direction; and attention from women was almost always driven by self-interest and a hunger for power. In short, I didn't enjoy being the ruler myself—far too much hassle. Another time, though, my wife ruled, and that wasn't bad at all. At first, I had to go out and beat the conspirators' faces in and tear the heads off anyone trying to worm his way into my wife's bed, but after a decade or so, everything settled down and I hardly ever had to take time away from my cultivation."
"You were married? And you handed control of an entire country… to your wife?" The student council president's surprise was unusually plain on her face.
"Of course I was." I rubbed my chin thoughtfully, sinking into old memories. "I'm human, after all. And she was beautiful, intelligent, superbly educated, and possessed impeccable manners. Her competence in governing a country was beyond question as well. She had a natural gift for ruling and a sincere desire to improve her nation. I must admit, she far surpassed me in that regard. I served her father, who warmly welcomed the region's strongest martial artist to his court. That was where I met his daughter. She was only five at the time—a delightful child, bright, inquisitive, and remarkably sensible, who grew into an admirable woman."
"Five? How old was she when you married?" I thought I detected judgment and mild disapproval in the president's question.
"Seventeen." I snorted, giving Sona-san a mildly reproachful look. "The customs in those worlds were certainly very different from those of this one, but little girls have never held any appeal for me. Though her father started trying to marry us off when she was twelve. He was a very intelligent and cunning man. He saw that ruling the country held no interest for me, and since he had only one child—a daughter…"
"He decided to marry the two of you so she would be the one to rule."
"Exactly. As for everyone who objected to the daughter of the Sun Emperor, Shaker of the Universe, Lord of Heaven and Earth marrying some cultivator born in a little village on the frontier… I persuaded them otherwise."
"Did they survive?" That mischievous glint returned to her eyes, accompanied by a faint smile.
"Not all of them."
"The aristocracy must have been displeased."
"No one cares about the displeasure of worthless trash." I snorted contemptuously, remembering how they had tried to throw obstacles in our path. "A few dozen public duels to the death, a couple of punitive raids, one suppressed uprising by the rabble, one ancestral castle burned to the ground—and the rest shut their mouths. Power lies in Power. Whoever has Power is stronger."
The girl gave an almost inaudible snort, took another sip of tea, and fell silent in thought for a few seconds.
"And you were stronger because you remembered your previous lives." The president nodded, as if confirming her own conclusion.
"You are remarkably perceptive, my Lady. Your intellect is every bit as extraordinary as your beauty." I smiled warmly at her. She blushed rather sweetly and looked away.
"It was obvious, Taro-kun. There's no need to flatter me."
"Forgive me, Sona-san. I couldn't resist. But you truly are very beautiful and possess a formidable intellect."
"If you mention impeccable manners and an excellent education, I'll begin to suspect that your compliments have ulterior motives."
"Everyone has those." I shrugged with a carefree smile. "In every world, people try to get something from one another. You wanted my strength—a Piece for your clan who would be useful to you and your House. I wanted help growing stronger. You gave me endless life, a place to train, the promise of an alchemy laboratory, and permission to hunt in your lands. Not to mention housing, money, food, and tuition. For such magnificent compensation, one must serve conscientiously, lest one incur the wrath of the Universe. You are a generous Lady, an extraordinarily generous one. And I know what I'm talking about: in my previous lives, most cultivators would have gladly sold their souls to a demon for all that."
"Well, technically…" The girl coughed into her fist, giving me an amused look. "Isn't that exactly what happened?"
I stared at her in confusion for a couple of seconds, then couldn't hold it in and… burst out laughing. Sona-san's eyebrows shot up in surprise. The fit didn't last long, and she didn't seem offended, but her expression made it clear that she wanted to know what I found so funny.
"Forgive me, Sona-san." Once I had calmed down, I inclined my head, but the president merely waved away my apology and silently asked for an explanation. "In the cultivation worlds, the word 'demon' carries a very different meaning. To draw an analogy, you… or rather, we are inhabitants of one of the higher worlds. We are stronger than mortals, but not very different from them. The demons of the cultivation worlds, however… are Evil. Pure, concentrated Evil. There is nothing human about them. Nothing inside them but endless, all-consuming hunger and malice."
I swallowed. Memories I always tried to drive away flooded my mind's eye. Clenching my jaw, I sank a little deeper into meditation and calmed my thoughts.
"I know. I was their slave. I was the scourge of mankind. A demonic cultivator possessed by an artifact of the Abyss—the Staff of Four Demons. A calamity, a raging inferno of malice that devoured villages, cities, and entire nations. My hunger became so powerful that nothing else remained within me… And no amount of bloodshed could ever satisfy it."
"But you… broke free?" The girl's gaze was intent. A touch of youthful curiosity, compassion, and a hint of apprehension. Her eyes were so beautiful… as deep as a bottomless violet ocean.
"No." A crooked smile crept across my face of its own accord. "I was killed. Thousands of heroes—the mightiest cultivators—came to slay the Avatar of the Four Demons, knowing that many of them would never return alive… Worse, that they would lose their souls and remain forever in the stomachs of those who owned me at the time. For several reincarnations afterward, I was… not myself. Cruelty, fury, rage, violence—the lives that followed overflowed with them. So as far as I'm concerned, my Lady, your kind aren't demons at all. These contracts, where we grant human wishes in exchange for their life force, are child's play. People readily trade away their lives for alcohol and drugs. What are ten years of life to them in exchange for a dream come true? You don't even buy souls, as described in biblical writings."
"Well…" Sona-san hesitated slightly. The story had clearly left an impression on her.
"And as for selling my soul… becoming a demon…" I smiled. "That doesn't frighten me in any case. You see, when they enslaved me back then, my soul should have been destroyed—devoured. And yet… here I am, sitting before you. Later, demons or demonic cultivators killed me on other occasions, and it made no difference. I was simply born again."
"Taro-kun." My Lady leaned across the table and covered my hand with hers. For a split second, I thought she meant to comfort me, but then I met her intensely serious gaze. "Never tell anyone about this. Ever. I heard nothing. This is True Immortality. Some would take an interest in that, at the very least. To reincarnate, even in another world, with your memories intact, when your soul should have been destroyed…"
"Very well, my Lady." I met her eyes with a warm smile and gently squeezed her slender fingers for a moment. "Thank you. Once again, I'm reminded what a wonderful girl you are."
The heiress of House Sitri, now slightly flustered, sat upright again. A faint blush colored her cheeks, and reproach entered her gaze.
"You're taking this far too lightly for…" The girl faltered.
"For someone as ancient as I am?" I chuckled, noticing her grow even more flustered. Adorable. Truly, she was beautiful. "Don't worry, Sitri-san…"
"Sona," she corrected me, knitting her brows in displeasure.
"Sona-san." I inclined my head in apology. "Don't worry too much. The necessary arrays were built into my body long ago. An old design of mine. I started working on it after I grew tired of all that fun on torture tables. Unfortunately, you are far from the first person to view my reincarnations in that light. One pulse of qi, and this cultivator will pass on to his next life, while my enemies will be left with nothing but a corpse. One in less than ideal condition. But I'm deeply grateful to you—for your concern and your candor."
"So you told me all of that deliberately. Now I feel… rather foolish." All traces of embarrassment had left her face, replaced by her usual composure and a faint, pleasant smile tinged with reproach. She was clearly holding back the question: Why?
"There's… a great deal of warmth and trust in this clan. I like that, and I hope my candor will lay the foundation for mutual understanding between my Lady and me. According to Tsubaki-san, you know all your servants' secrets, and I haven't seen you exploit that knowledge for your own benefit at anyone else's expense."
"Tsubasa-chan is returning." My Lady glanced toward the teleportation circle on the floor as it began to glow. "I hope you won't mind if we talk more about… the cultivation worlds? I would be interested to hear about them."
"Of course, Sona-san. I will gladly assume the role of Scheherazade-kun." I smiled at her, drawing a brief, melodic laugh from the girl. "Besides, I have more tales than a thousand and one nights could ever hold…"
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
Chapter 11
New
Boroda Orka
Getting sticky.
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"Good morning, Master." My "senpai" bowed respectfully, grinning as she passed through the academy gates. I tried to give her a polite smile in return, adjusting my disciplinary committee armband. It was my turn to stand watch at the gates today, checking students' appearance and noting who arrived late.
"Good morning, Tsubasa-san." I thought I'd managed a smile. Inwardly, I reflected with philosophical calm that this would be another log on the bonfire of my troubles.
The little cluster of girls by the academy entrance had already seen and heard everything. Kiryu Aika's thoughtful expression and bright blush were especially troubling. I'd bet anything the gears in her head were spinning like mad.
I never imagined that volume of manhua would become the starting point of our… ahem… friendship. This sweet girl… er… this sweet little menace, that's right! Ahem. Anyway, her friendship—though, honestly, we were really just acquaintances on slightly friendly terms—had brought me a whole pile of troubles. Nothing too serious, but still annoying, at least from my point of view. Though… oh, it's complicated. It'll take a bit more explaining.
The chain of events began the day after I bought that belch from the Chinese entertainment industry. I'd filed its author's name under Never read again, even if they threaten to shoot me for five hours straight.
Kiryu pulled the same trick again, appearing beside me without warning in the hallway. It wasn't as if I was obsessively watching everything around me, but I usually noticed people. I sensed when someone was watching me, heard their footsteps, felt their presence. Yet this bespectacled girl had now appeared beside me out of nowhere twice. It might even have been intriguing, if not for where it all led.
"Hi, Chiba-san! So, what did you think of the manhua?" That was the first thing she asked. And it was like pulling the trigger on a gun with the safety already off.
The thing was, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was pleased with my conversation with my Lady. It had once again confirmed that joining her House had been the right decision. Relatively speaking, of course. Life isn't some simple arithmetic problem for first graders with only one correct answer. There are many roads to choose from, or even just directions in which to move. The only real limit is the question: Is this acceptable to me? And personally, I was satisfied with everything—from our friendly group, so easy on the eyes, to Sitri-sama herself, my Lady.
A princess of a powerful House, the younger sister of one of the rulers of the Underworld—generous, intelligent, interesting, and beautiful. Even alluring, yes. For now, I considered her the most attractive girl I knew in every sense of the word, and I took real pleasure in her company and our conversations.
The bitterness came from the volume I'd forced myself to finish. It left a truly vile aftertaste. Especially after the Evil Villain was defeated. His own daughter killed him by driving a poisoned dagger into his back. I read that part with an icy mask on my face, imagining myself warming up beside a bonfire fueled by the protagonists of this epic.
The problem was that the horrific atrocities committed by the antagonist were described and drawn so poorly that he honestly came across as a perfectly decent man. One of those strict but fair types. The well-fed faces of his subjects, stone-paved roads, sewers, the clean streets of bright, beautiful cities where performers put on shows in the public squares about… Pay attention now… Just think about this… HOW TERRIBLE their ruler was!!! And all the guards did was chase them away, without even trying to throw them in jail. If that had been me… Ugh.
He even welcomed his daughter back to the palace, showering her with affection and sympathy, despite the fact that the harpy had carried out a couple of outright acts of sabotage that got people killed! And that had all been part of the protagonist's cunning plan. He had disguised himself and posed as that idiot's rescuer from his own terrible Self.
In short, the Hero valiantly attacked the Villain when the man least expected it and was actually preparing to shower the savior of his precious little girl with rewards… The Hero couldn't handle him, and when Daddy's precious little darling saw that her degenerate-kun was losing… she once again acted most valiantly and stabbed her father in the back. Bellissimo, perfetto, fucktastico!
In my head, I called the story The Treacherous Son of a Bitch and the Degenerate Daughter. I even wondered whether it was secretly a deconstruction of the whole "knight and his princess" trope. But no—the author's online interview informed me that I was an idiot. The Hero was noble, the princess was a mother to her people, and the ruler was a bad man.
And while all those thoughts were still swirling through my head, up popped this braided ninja, whose taste I had already decided was either terrible or downright twisted, and asked a question that hit a particularly sore spot just then.
"Utter shi—" I barely stopped myself, cutting the word short. I was a member of the disciplinary committee and was supposed to set an example. If you take on a job, you do it properly. "Forgive me, Kiryu-san. And good morning. I didn't like the manhua."
Honestly, I had expected surprise, perhaps even mild offense. A question like "Why?" and all the usual things. What I had not expected was the girl's delighted giggle and the joyful sparkle in her eyes.
"You're right, Chiba-san. That stack of wastepaper is exactly what you were about to call it—and a particularly nasty example, too." Aika pushed her glasses up with one finger, sending a positively villainous gleam across the lenses.
"So you deliberately sold me a bad story?" To be honest, I was a little hurt. It wasn't about the money—I had plenty, and buying one shitty Chinese comic wasn't going to make me poor. It was the time I'd wasted… Besides, Aika and I weren't on bad enough terms for her to pull something like that on me.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk!" She waggled a finger right under my nose. "Don't think ill of Kiryu-chan, the Academy's Number One Silent Type. I sold you the absolute worst manhua in the store, but not to hurt your feelings…"
A meaningful pause, another flash of light across her glasses… Who the hell was she? How did she do that? And why was I intrigued? Hypnosis? Magic? Some kind of technique? I couldn't sense a thing from her!!!
"The thing is, I'm convinced the first xianxia story you read should be the worst one you can get your hands on! You're just starting out! You decided to try this wonderful genre for the first time, right?" Nine Heavens, she really knew how to use her voice to make it all sound intriguing. Her eyes blazed with genuine enthusiasm.
"That's right. It was my first time," I said with a nod. Then I shook my head reproachfully. "But that was pretty cruel of you, Kiryu-san. I was hoping for something to cheer me up, and instead…"
"Ho-ho-ho!" My classmate chuckled in triumph, though not very loudly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. I felt an urge to do something nasty to her in return. "Like I said, you have to read a terrible manhua first, and then…"
Aika reached into her schoolbag with her right hand and pulled out a paper-wrapped bundle. The shape of a book was unmistakable. She held it out to me.
"Then you read the best one! Take it, and don't thank me! After the ordeal you've just been through, this one will seem so beautiful, you'd think the kami themselves drew it! It's my gift to a beginner just dipping his toes into this wonderful new world! After this masterpiece, you'll love xianxia as much as Issei-kun loves perverted stuff."
"Uh… Sorry, Kiryu-san, but I can't accept this gift. You paid for it…"
"Come on, Chiba-san. I get an employee discount, so it's fine." Aika lightly tapped the bundle against my chest, urging me to take it. "Besides, you already paid for that one, and I ruined your mood, so this is compensation."
"I can't." I smiled apologetically, inwardly snickering like a bastard. My little revenge was taking shape.
What could be worse than a guilty conscience? The girl had turned out not to be malicious after all, just someone with some pretty strange ideas. If she hadn't gone and ruined those rare free hours, I could've accepted her gift and forgiven her without much effort.
"How about this? I'll borrow it, read it, and return it to you, all right? I don't have much room in my dorm for extra books. I just don't know when I'll be able to bring it back—I have kendo practice, student council work, advanced classes, and electives. Yesterday was the first time I'd had a few free hours in weeks, so I stopped by your shop to find something to read."
Bull's-eye! As I spoke, my classmate's face grew longer, and realization began to dawn in her eyes. That's right, girl. You ruined a rare stretch of free time for me.
"Chiba-san…"
"It's fine, Kiryu-san." I smiled warmly, cackling wickedly to myself. "You said it's best to start with something bad so the good stuff seems even better afterward, so no harm done. Thanks for the manhua."
I carefully took the bundle from her hands as she stood there frozen, then went on my way. She'd feel a little guilty, sure, but maybe she'd think twice next time. Misleading customers was a bad habit. Next time, someone might make a scene. Besides, a stunt like that could do a customer a real disservice—or even put a newcomer off the whole genre.
At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. A small lesson for a young girl, a little revenge for the time she'd wasted… But I should've either just accepted the gift or pretended to be properly offended. I barely spoke to my classmates, after all, and didn't know them well enough to judge their personalities. And this girl turned out to be surprisingly quick to take matters into her own hands!
During lessons, Aika kept fidgeting and occasionally shot me guilty looks. Some people noticed, especially the sharp-eyed girls. It wasn't a big deal, of course, but as soon as classes ended, she took off like a shot in some unknown direction. The next time I saw her was near the student council rooms.
I'd been held up a little. A limping girl from another class had asked me to help her to the infirmary, yet for some reason I couldn't sense even an echo of pain from her. It wasn't exactly suspicious—students faked being ill now and then, and it was perfectly ordinary—but considering I sometimes saw this girl with Kiryu Aika…
"Something's up. I can smell it," I muttered as the pleased girl nodded to me and headed toward the central staircase.
I was partly right. It wasn't exactly a setup, but the quick-witted girl had come up with a clever plan to ease her conscience. I had to admire it: Kiryu Aika had used the same tactics I had. Honesty and an appeal to sympathy.
My fellow student council members told me that my classmate had arrived out of breath, practically barged past Genshiro, and told Sitri-sama the whole story. My Lady had seen me struggling through that pile of wastepaper. She listened to Kiryu, made her decision, and declared that my task for the day was to read the book from "that sweet girl with the big heart." And since all our girls had such huge hearts, they divided up all my work among themselves. Not one of them even flinched.
In the end, I sat there drinking tea and reading a pretty good manhua while everyone else worked. Honestly, I felt like a complete freeloader. And the worst part was that I couldn't get one question out of my head: So who ended up teaching whom a lesson, huh, genius? In short, karma had walloped me. I'd say it hit me with the big guns, but the trouble didn't end there.
The next day brought new reasons to be upset. It all started with Kiryu Aika again. She accepted the volume I'd finished—and my perfectly sincere thanks—with a pleased but guilty expression. I tried to do it without an audience, but unfortunately, a gaggle of girls from our class came down the hallway where I'd caught up with her and gave us a long, pointed stare—right as I handed the book back with a grateful smile and Kiryu, blushing, apologized and explained that she hadn't realized how busy I was.
Is it hard to go unnoticed at a school full of girls? Not really, I'd say—under the right circumstances. I'd kept a low profile from the start. I was quiet and unsociable. A top student, not bad-looking, in good shape, but that was about it. Sure, some people liked that, but hardly anyone knew much of anything about me. I didn't advertise my personal life, my training, or anything like that. My homeroom teacher knew, of course, but she didn't go around telling the other students what a great guy I was. In short, I was more forgettable than interesting. And even more so after I turned down two girls who liked quiet guys…
But now several factors had come into play. First, I was still a top student and in good shape. Second, I'd been invited to join the student council, which was a real honor at the academy. Third, there were witnesses who'd seen me being friendly—even smiling warmly at a classmate—as we talked somewhere relatively secluded.
All those wonderful ingredients fell into a cauldron bubbling with girlish curiosity. The mixture simmered all day as the girls whispered among themselves. Then, after classes, a whole herd of goosebumps ran down my back when I saw most of the girls in my class gathering around Kiryu Aika's desk. As I headed toward the student council rooms, my gut told me something was about to happen.
Was I glad things had turned out that way and my intuition hadn't failed me? Not really. Or, as a certain mustachioed man who most definitely wasn't Kazakh might put it: NOT! My intuition should've kicked in sooner!!! Back when I went to the bookstore!!!
In the end, I gained my share of popularity. Kiryu had undoubtedly caved under pressure from our classmates and told them the story about the manhua, mentioned how busy I was, and probably brought up my kendo practice too… After that, everyone drew their own conclusions.
Before long, they'd come up with a neat little theory to explain my gloomy demeanor. It wasn't gloominess anymore, but "the focus of a serious man pursuing his goals." (Yes, yes—I heard two girls whispering it with my own ears.) They explained away my reserved nature, too: "He just doesn't have time for silly stuff." And as for clubs: "He joined the student council, didn't he? That's where you get real experience of adult life!"
Ironically, almost all of it was true—the reasons behind it just weren't quite what people thought. And now the girls trying to get my attention were chatting near my desk about anime and manga. Or which university to choose. Or what relationships in an ideal family ought to look like.
I was certain there were no crushes or anything like that. They were just curious, trying to "poke me with a stick" and see what I'd do. But their curiosity was gathering momentum!
Kiryu would sometimes come over for a quick chat, too. Then my buddy Ise made things awkward by deciding to keep her company for some reason. Gremory Rias-san was my Lady's childhood friend and ally, so I didn't think it wise to give her servant the usual Chiba Taro treatment. I showed Ise a little warmth, which encouraged Aika to talk to me now and then.
My classmate even gave me a list she'd put together herself of "great works," both domestic and foreign, sorted by genre and subgenre, "so you won't waste your time on bad ones, Chiba-san." It touched me a little, and I no longer felt like talking to her as though I couldn't be bothered. Kiryu definitely wasn't a bad person. She had a peculiar sense of humor and some amusing little quirks, but despite everything, I didn't feel any animosity toward her.
There was still a chance things would die down. I did my best to be as uninteresting as possible. But then our homeroom teacher fired the final shot. A ridiculous coincidence.
The entire kendo club was once again chasing Matsuda and Motohama out with piss-soaked rags—er, shinai. I happened to be on duty, and they came running straight into me. Well, I "apprehended" them and asked the indignant girls what the problem was. (Though it was obvious those two idiots had been drooling over the kendo girls as they changed.) I gave the pair a dressing-down and ordered them to show up the next day for disciplinary action, leaving the severity of the punishment for Shitori-sama to decide.
I thought that was that, but the girls decided to show me the now-legendary hole in the wall the Perverted Trio used for their grand, if horrifying, exploits. They weren't showing me where to peek. They were asking, "Chiba-san, please, can the student council finally do something about this?"
I didn't know why they kept mindlessly plastering over the hole, only for the perverts to just as mindlessly bore it open again, but I fixed the problem. I grabbed a big, long bolt from the storeroom, pushed it through the wall, tightened a nut on the other side, and bent the end of the bolt all to hell.
"If you see those two sneaking up to the wall with a pair of giant bolt cutters, then… beat the hell out of them. I'll pretend I didn't see a thing." With that parting advice, I turned to leave amid the girls' giggles—only to come face-to-face with my homeroom teacher.
"Chiba-kun, hello again! So you did decide to join the kendo club after all?"
"Shijimu-san." I gave the woman a slight bow, praying she wouldn't say anything she shouldn't. Behind me, the girls bowed to her too. I sensed a hint of confusion from them at Shijimu-san's question. "I was just helping them patch up a hole in the wall."
"That one?" The teacher pursed her lips disapprovingly, though her displeasure wasn't directed at me. "Good work."
I'd already sighed with relief and thanked the Nine Heavens for their mercy… but apparently prayers like that don't work for demons. Or rather, they do—but the results aren't quite what you'd hoped for.
"Still, it's a shame. Goro-san is a master renowned throughout Japan, and his senior student could really help our girls," the… kind woman sighed sadly, blissfully unaware of what she was doing. Everyone at school knew how hard the captain of the academy's kendo team pushed for us to win competitions. Hmm… Could this be our homeroom teacher's cunning plan?
"Unfortunately, Sensei, I really don't have any time," I said, putting as much regret into my voice as I could. Now to make a quick getaway. I could feel the kendo girls' bewilderment mounting behind me, especially that of their club president, who was also the team captain. Who knew how long before she got "fired up"?
"I'm sorry, but I have to go. Student council paperwork, dojo practice, classes…"
I headed briskly toward the classroom building, careful not to make it look like I was running away. That was it. Now I was truly finished. Was I ever going to try acting like some kind of mentor to the younger generation again? Never!!!
To the kendo club's credit—and to my relief—they didn't come chasing after me. They didn't pressure me, lure me in, or try to seduce me. At least, not yet. But more girls had joined the ranks of those taking an interest in me, and the rumors had spread beyond our class, gaining momentum and a curious audience.
There was still a slim chance the whole thing would fizzle out and I wouldn't become another poor Kiba Yuuto, but… My senpai seemed to have dealt me the finishing blow.
The thing was, ever since that training match, Tsubasa had sometimes called me "Master"—half joking, half serious. Sona-san had given me permission to use her family's training grounds, and Tsubasa had politely asked if she could watch me train and whether I'd "teach her a couple of cool techniques." Of course, she hadn't put it quite like that, but she'd hinted that she was interested in improving herself.
And Aika—the "Girl Who Brings Misfortune"—had heard Tsubasa call me "Master" and seen her cheerful smile and serious eyes. Once this whole saga of fascinating, exciting theories about me began, Aika had thrown herself into it with enthusiasm and delight. What would happen now? What would spring from the mind of someone who thought the best way to get into a new genre was to start with the worst?
Nine Heav—No, screw the heavens! Leviathan-sama, help your little sister's servant!!! I want absolutely nothing to do with this particular kind of popularity!
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.
"Good morning, Tsubasa-san." I thought I'd managed a smile. Inwardly, I reflected with philosophical calm that this would be another log on the bonfire of my troubles.
The little cluster of girls by the academy entrance had already seen and heard everything. Kiryu Aika's thoughtful expression and bright blush were especially troubling. I'd bet anything the gears in her head were spinning like mad.
I never imagined that volume of manhua would become the starting point of our… ahem… friendship. This sweet girl… er… this sweet little menace, that's right! Ahem. Anyway, her friendship—though, honestly, we were really just acquaintances on slightly friendly terms—had brought me a whole pile of troubles. Nothing too serious, but still annoying, at least from my point of view. Though… oh, it's complicated. It'll take a bit more explaining.
The chain of events began the day after I bought that belch from the Chinese entertainment industry. I'd filed its author's name under Never read again, even if they threaten to shoot me for five hours straight.
Kiryu pulled the same trick again, appearing beside me without warning in the hallway. It wasn't as if I was obsessively watching everything around me, but I usually noticed people. I sensed when someone was watching me, heard their footsteps, felt their presence. Yet this bespectacled girl had now appeared beside me out of nowhere twice. It might even have been intriguing, if not for where it all led.
"Hi, Chiba-san! So, what did you think of the manhua?" That was the first thing she asked. And it was like pulling the trigger on a gun with the safety already off.
The thing was, I had mixed feelings. On the one hand, I was pleased with my conversation with my Lady. It had once again confirmed that joining her House had been the right decision. Relatively speaking, of course. Life isn't some simple arithmetic problem for first graders with only one correct answer. There are many roads to choose from, or even just directions in which to move. The only real limit is the question: Is this acceptable to me? And personally, I was satisfied with everything—from our friendly group, so easy on the eyes, to Sitri-sama herself, my Lady.
A princess of a powerful House, the younger sister of one of the rulers of the Underworld—generous, intelligent, interesting, and beautiful. Even alluring, yes. For now, I considered her the most attractive girl I knew in every sense of the word, and I took real pleasure in her company and our conversations.
The bitterness came from the volume I'd forced myself to finish. It left a truly vile aftertaste. Especially after the Evil Villain was defeated. His own daughter killed him by driving a poisoned dagger into his back. I read that part with an icy mask on my face, imagining myself warming up beside a bonfire fueled by the protagonists of this epic.
The problem was that the horrific atrocities committed by the antagonist were described and drawn so poorly that he honestly came across as a perfectly decent man. One of those strict but fair types. The well-fed faces of his subjects, stone-paved roads, sewers, the clean streets of bright, beautiful cities where performers put on shows in the public squares about… Pay attention now… Just think about this… HOW TERRIBLE their ruler was!!! And all the guards did was chase them away, without even trying to throw them in jail. If that had been me… Ugh.
He even welcomed his daughter back to the palace, showering her with affection and sympathy, despite the fact that the harpy had carried out a couple of outright acts of sabotage that got people killed! And that had all been part of the protagonist's cunning plan. He had disguised himself and posed as that idiot's rescuer from his own terrible Self.
In short, the Hero valiantly attacked the Villain when the man least expected it and was actually preparing to shower the savior of his precious little girl with rewards… The Hero couldn't handle him, and when Daddy's precious little darling saw that her degenerate-kun was losing… she once again acted most valiantly and stabbed her father in the back. Bellissimo, perfetto, fucktastico!
In my head, I called the story The Treacherous Son of a Bitch and the Degenerate Daughter. I even wondered whether it was secretly a deconstruction of the whole "knight and his princess" trope. But no—the author's online interview informed me that I was an idiot. The Hero was noble, the princess was a mother to her people, and the ruler was a bad man.
And while all those thoughts were still swirling through my head, up popped this braided ninja, whose taste I had already decided was either terrible or downright twisted, and asked a question that hit a particularly sore spot just then.
"Utter shi—" I barely stopped myself, cutting the word short. I was a member of the disciplinary committee and was supposed to set an example. If you take on a job, you do it properly. "Forgive me, Kiryu-san. And good morning. I didn't like the manhua."
Honestly, I had expected surprise, perhaps even mild offense. A question like "Why?" and all the usual things. What I had not expected was the girl's delighted giggle and the joyful sparkle in her eyes.
"You're right, Chiba-san. That stack of wastepaper is exactly what you were about to call it—and a particularly nasty example, too." Aika pushed her glasses up with one finger, sending a positively villainous gleam across the lenses.
"So you deliberately sold me a bad story?" To be honest, I was a little hurt. It wasn't about the money—I had plenty, and buying one shitty Chinese comic wasn't going to make me poor. It was the time I'd wasted… Besides, Aika and I weren't on bad enough terms for her to pull something like that on me.
"Tsk, tsk, tsk!" She waggled a finger right under my nose. "Don't think ill of Kiryu-chan, the Academy's Number One Silent Type. I sold you the absolute worst manhua in the store, but not to hurt your feelings…"
A meaningful pause, another flash of light across her glasses… Who the hell was she? How did she do that? And why was I intrigued? Hypnosis? Magic? Some kind of technique? I couldn't sense a thing from her!!!
"The thing is, I'm convinced the first xianxia story you read should be the worst one you can get your hands on! You're just starting out! You decided to try this wonderful genre for the first time, right?" Nine Heavens, she really knew how to use her voice to make it all sound intriguing. Her eyes blazed with genuine enthusiasm.
"That's right. It was my first time," I said with a nod. Then I shook my head reproachfully. "But that was pretty cruel of you, Kiryu-san. I was hoping for something to cheer me up, and instead…"
"Ho-ho-ho!" My classmate chuckled in triumph, though not very loudly, covering her mouth with the back of her hand. I felt an urge to do something nasty to her in return. "Like I said, you have to read a terrible manhua first, and then…"
Aika reached into her schoolbag with her right hand and pulled out a paper-wrapped bundle. The shape of a book was unmistakable. She held it out to me.
"Then you read the best one! Take it, and don't thank me! After the ordeal you've just been through, this one will seem so beautiful, you'd think the kami themselves drew it! It's my gift to a beginner just dipping his toes into this wonderful new world! After this masterpiece, you'll love xianxia as much as Issei-kun loves perverted stuff."
"Uh… Sorry, Kiryu-san, but I can't accept this gift. You paid for it…"
"Come on, Chiba-san. I get an employee discount, so it's fine." Aika lightly tapped the bundle against my chest, urging me to take it. "Besides, you already paid for that one, and I ruined your mood, so this is compensation."
"I can't." I smiled apologetically, inwardly snickering like a bastard. My little revenge was taking shape.
What could be worse than a guilty conscience? The girl had turned out not to be malicious after all, just someone with some pretty strange ideas. If she hadn't gone and ruined those rare free hours, I could've accepted her gift and forgiven her without much effort.
"How about this? I'll borrow it, read it, and return it to you, all right? I don't have much room in my dorm for extra books. I just don't know when I'll be able to bring it back—I have kendo practice, student council work, advanced classes, and electives. Yesterday was the first time I'd had a few free hours in weeks, so I stopped by your shop to find something to read."
Bull's-eye! As I spoke, my classmate's face grew longer, and realization began to dawn in her eyes. That's right, girl. You ruined a rare stretch of free time for me.
"Chiba-san…"
"It's fine, Kiryu-san." I smiled warmly, cackling wickedly to myself. "You said it's best to start with something bad so the good stuff seems even better afterward, so no harm done. Thanks for the manhua."
I carefully took the bundle from her hands as she stood there frozen, then went on my way. She'd feel a little guilty, sure, but maybe she'd think twice next time. Misleading customers was a bad habit. Next time, someone might make a scene. Besides, a stunt like that could do a customer a real disservice—or even put a newcomer off the whole genre.
At the time, it seemed like the right thing to do. A small lesson for a young girl, a little revenge for the time she'd wasted… But I should've either just accepted the gift or pretended to be properly offended. I barely spoke to my classmates, after all, and didn't know them well enough to judge their personalities. And this girl turned out to be surprisingly quick to take matters into her own hands!
During lessons, Aika kept fidgeting and occasionally shot me guilty looks. Some people noticed, especially the sharp-eyed girls. It wasn't a big deal, of course, but as soon as classes ended, she took off like a shot in some unknown direction. The next time I saw her was near the student council rooms.
I'd been held up a little. A limping girl from another class had asked me to help her to the infirmary, yet for some reason I couldn't sense even an echo of pain from her. It wasn't exactly suspicious—students faked being ill now and then, and it was perfectly ordinary—but considering I sometimes saw this girl with Kiryu Aika…
"Something's up. I can smell it," I muttered as the pleased girl nodded to me and headed toward the central staircase.
I was partly right. It wasn't exactly a setup, but the quick-witted girl had come up with a clever plan to ease her conscience. I had to admire it: Kiryu Aika had used the same tactics I had. Honesty and an appeal to sympathy.
My fellow student council members told me that my classmate had arrived out of breath, practically barged past Genshiro, and told Sitri-sama the whole story. My Lady had seen me struggling through that pile of wastepaper. She listened to Kiryu, made her decision, and declared that my task for the day was to read the book from "that sweet girl with the big heart." And since all our girls had such huge hearts, they divided up all my work among themselves. Not one of them even flinched.
In the end, I sat there drinking tea and reading a pretty good manhua while everyone else worked. Honestly, I felt like a complete freeloader. And the worst part was that I couldn't get one question out of my head: So who ended up teaching whom a lesson, huh, genius? In short, karma had walloped me. I'd say it hit me with the big guns, but the trouble didn't end there.
The next day brought new reasons to be upset. It all started with Kiryu Aika again. She accepted the volume I'd finished—and my perfectly sincere thanks—with a pleased but guilty expression. I tried to do it without an audience, but unfortunately, a gaggle of girls from our class came down the hallway where I'd caught up with her and gave us a long, pointed stare—right as I handed the book back with a grateful smile and Kiryu, blushing, apologized and explained that she hadn't realized how busy I was.
Is it hard to go unnoticed at a school full of girls? Not really, I'd say—under the right circumstances. I'd kept a low profile from the start. I was quiet and unsociable. A top student, not bad-looking, in good shape, but that was about it. Sure, some people liked that, but hardly anyone knew much of anything about me. I didn't advertise my personal life, my training, or anything like that. My homeroom teacher knew, of course, but she didn't go around telling the other students what a great guy I was. In short, I was more forgettable than interesting. And even more so after I turned down two girls who liked quiet guys…
But now several factors had come into play. First, I was still a top student and in good shape. Second, I'd been invited to join the student council, which was a real honor at the academy. Third, there were witnesses who'd seen me being friendly—even smiling warmly at a classmate—as we talked somewhere relatively secluded.
All those wonderful ingredients fell into a cauldron bubbling with girlish curiosity. The mixture simmered all day as the girls whispered among themselves. Then, after classes, a whole herd of goosebumps ran down my back when I saw most of the girls in my class gathering around Kiryu Aika's desk. As I headed toward the student council rooms, my gut told me something was about to happen.
Was I glad things had turned out that way and my intuition hadn't failed me? Not really. Or, as a certain mustachioed man who most definitely wasn't Kazakh might put it: NOT! My intuition should've kicked in sooner!!! Back when I went to the bookstore!!!
In the end, I gained my share of popularity. Kiryu had undoubtedly caved under pressure from our classmates and told them the story about the manhua, mentioned how busy I was, and probably brought up my kendo practice too… After that, everyone drew their own conclusions.
Before long, they'd come up with a neat little theory to explain my gloomy demeanor. It wasn't gloominess anymore, but "the focus of a serious man pursuing his goals." (Yes, yes—I heard two girls whispering it with my own ears.) They explained away my reserved nature, too: "He just doesn't have time for silly stuff." And as for clubs: "He joined the student council, didn't he? That's where you get real experience of adult life!"
Ironically, almost all of it was true—the reasons behind it just weren't quite what people thought. And now the girls trying to get my attention were chatting near my desk about anime and manga. Or which university to choose. Or what relationships in an ideal family ought to look like.
I was certain there were no crushes or anything like that. They were just curious, trying to "poke me with a stick" and see what I'd do. But their curiosity was gathering momentum!
Kiryu would sometimes come over for a quick chat, too. Then my buddy Ise made things awkward by deciding to keep her company for some reason. Gremory Rias-san was my Lady's childhood friend and ally, so I didn't think it wise to give her servant the usual Chiba Taro treatment. I showed Ise a little warmth, which encouraged Aika to talk to me now and then.
My classmate even gave me a list she'd put together herself of "great works," both domestic and foreign, sorted by genre and subgenre, "so you won't waste your time on bad ones, Chiba-san." It touched me a little, and I no longer felt like talking to her as though I couldn't be bothered. Kiryu definitely wasn't a bad person. She had a peculiar sense of humor and some amusing little quirks, but despite everything, I didn't feel any animosity toward her.
There was still a chance things would die down. I did my best to be as uninteresting as possible. But then our homeroom teacher fired the final shot. A ridiculous coincidence.
The entire kendo club was once again chasing Matsuda and Motohama out with piss-soaked rags—er, shinai. I happened to be on duty, and they came running straight into me. Well, I "apprehended" them and asked the indignant girls what the problem was. (Though it was obvious those two idiots had been drooling over the kendo girls as they changed.) I gave the pair a dressing-down and ordered them to show up the next day for disciplinary action, leaving the severity of the punishment for Shitori-sama to decide.
I thought that was that, but the girls decided to show me the now-legendary hole in the wall the Perverted Trio used for their grand, if horrifying, exploits. They weren't showing me where to peek. They were asking, "Chiba-san, please, can the student council finally do something about this?"
I didn't know why they kept mindlessly plastering over the hole, only for the perverts to just as mindlessly bore it open again, but I fixed the problem. I grabbed a big, long bolt from the storeroom, pushed it through the wall, tightened a nut on the other side, and bent the end of the bolt all to hell.
"If you see those two sneaking up to the wall with a pair of giant bolt cutters, then… beat the hell out of them. I'll pretend I didn't see a thing." With that parting advice, I turned to leave amid the girls' giggles—only to come face-to-face with my homeroom teacher.
"Chiba-kun, hello again! So you did decide to join the kendo club after all?"
"Shijimu-san." I gave the woman a slight bow, praying she wouldn't say anything she shouldn't. Behind me, the girls bowed to her too. I sensed a hint of confusion from them at Shijimu-san's question. "I was just helping them patch up a hole in the wall."
"That one?" The teacher pursed her lips disapprovingly, though her displeasure wasn't directed at me. "Good work."
I'd already sighed with relief and thanked the Nine Heavens for their mercy… but apparently prayers like that don't work for demons. Or rather, they do—but the results aren't quite what you'd hoped for.
"Still, it's a shame. Goro-san is a master renowned throughout Japan, and his senior student could really help our girls," the… kind woman sighed sadly, blissfully unaware of what she was doing. Everyone at school knew how hard the captain of the academy's kendo team pushed for us to win competitions. Hmm… Could this be our homeroom teacher's cunning plan?
"Unfortunately, Sensei, I really don't have any time," I said, putting as much regret into my voice as I could. Now to make a quick getaway. I could feel the kendo girls' bewilderment mounting behind me, especially that of their club president, who was also the team captain. Who knew how long before she got "fired up"?
"I'm sorry, but I have to go. Student council paperwork, dojo practice, classes…"
I headed briskly toward the classroom building, careful not to make it look like I was running away. That was it. Now I was truly finished. Was I ever going to try acting like some kind of mentor to the younger generation again? Never!!!
To the kendo club's credit—and to my relief—they didn't come chasing after me. They didn't pressure me, lure me in, or try to seduce me. At least, not yet. But more girls had joined the ranks of those taking an interest in me, and the rumors had spread beyond our class, gaining momentum and a curious audience.
There was still a slim chance the whole thing would fizzle out and I wouldn't become another poor Kiba Yuuto, but… My senpai seemed to have dealt me the finishing blow.
The thing was, ever since that training match, Tsubasa had sometimes called me "Master"—half joking, half serious. Sona-san had given me permission to use her family's training grounds, and Tsubasa had politely asked if she could watch me train and whether I'd "teach her a couple of cool techniques." Of course, she hadn't put it quite like that, but she'd hinted that she was interested in improving herself.
And Aika—the "Girl Who Brings Misfortune"—had heard Tsubasa call me "Master" and seen her cheerful smile and serious eyes. Once this whole saga of fascinating, exciting theories about me began, Aika had thrown herself into it with enthusiasm and delight. What would happen now? What would spring from the mind of someone who thought the best way to get into a new genre was to start with the worst?
Nine Heav—No, screw the heavens! Leviathan-sama, help your little sister's servant!!! I want absolutely nothing to do with this particular kind of popularity!
Original Russian story
You can find more chapters on my Patreon.
The translation of new chapters will also be published here—but with a bit of a delay.