DxD: DO System Chapter 34

Chapter 34: The Eastern Wind

[Break of Dawn — Oze Range]

Perched atop a flattened rock, Hachiman gazed at the world below. The Oze range wasn’t especially tall, but from its modest height, the expansive land stretched out beneath him, a canvas of life and quiet grandeur.

As a god, he had no need for mortal necessities. Sleep, sustenance, or any of the fragile rituals that tethered humans to survival were irrelevant to him.

Yet, Hachiman was not truly immortal.

At least, not in the absolute sense.

He would not succumb to old age or natural decay. He was no feeble old man, though his current form suggested otherwise. If he wished, he could be a child, a withered corpse, or anything in between. The choice was his.

And yet, he chose this form—an aging figure—growing alongside the mortal lives he cherished.

Unlike his divine peers, who reveled in their eternal youth, Hachiman found no joy in it.

“Do you plan to die alongside them?”

The question came from a voice so sweet it could humble even the most beautiful melody ever composed by man. Most would have twisted their neck in a frantic attempt to locate the source of such a sound, but Hachiman remained still, his eyes fixed on the world below, on the lives scattered across the valleys beneath the mountain.

“If I could, I would,” he replied without turning his gaze.

“You would,” the voice mused, soft yet laced with understanding. “But that’s not how our existence works. We can live, we can die, we can change. The choice is ours.”

“We can, but we cannot,” Hachiman answered bitterly. “We have the ability, but not the freedom.”

“That is the curse of godhood,” the voice sighed, weary yet resolute. “We endure, for eternity. As long as this world exists, so must we.”

Hachiman offered no response. He watched in silence, his stoic demeanor unbroken as the first rays of sunlight crept over the horizon, illuminating the ground below.

After a stretch of quiet that felt like an eternity, he finally spoke.

“Why are you here, Inari?”

He didn’t need to look at her. Her presence alone was unmistakable.

For anyone else, her arrival would have been overwhelming—a collision of beauty and power too much for mortal senses to endure.

Inari, the goddess of fertility, prosperity, and foxes, embodied elegance itself. Her flawless skin bore no blemishes, her deep blue eyes reflected the endless depths of the sea, and her hair shimmered like spun silk. Her lips, naturally red and heart-shaped, were the envy of mortals, and her figure radiated refinement rather than seduction.

She was beauty made divine.

“You feel it too, don’t you?” she asked, her voice tinged with a rare unease. “The wind—it’s changing.”

“Fūjin,” Hachiman breathed, his tone heavy with recognition. “He’s making his move.”

Fūjin, the god of wind, was stirring, and Inari—one of those that stood against him—had come to warn Hachiman.

“He is,” she confirmed, her composure wavering slightly. “If you don’t choose a side, everything will collapse.”

“I cannot,” Hachiman said firmly. “I am the god of war. I cannot intervene in a war brewing within my own pantheon.”

Inari stepped closer, her persistence unwavering. “We need you. If this conflict begins, one side will fall, and when it does, you will bear the blame. Choose now—the side you can live with taking responsibility for.”

The ever-calm god clenched his fists, his restraint fraying.

“I have seen it all, Inari. I have shed the blood of countless souls,” he said, his voice trembling with emotion. “But I cannot shed the blood of my own kin. Not my family. Not my pantheon.”

Inari fell silent for a moment, her gaze lingering on him. Then she spoke, her voice steady but laden with meaning.

“Your champion has already chosen a side,” she said. “And you know the truth, Hachiman. If you don’t stand with him or take a neutral stance, you will inevitably face him.”

She stared at his back, her eyes searching for a response that wouldn’t come. “What will you do when he stands against me?”

Hachiman had no answer.

“Will you choose the boy you raised as if he were your own? The one you nurtured like a father, taught like a teacher, and shaped with the care of a sculptor? Or will you choose me, the one who shares your blood, who has stood beside you through it all—and who, even now, would willingly die by your blade if you chose to fight me?”

Her words lingered in the air like a challenge, but Hachiman said nothing.

“Is that why you hold that blade?” he asked, his voice soft yet piercing. “The goddess who shuns violence, now clutching a katana forged by Kagetsuchi himself.”

“To protect what I hold dear,” she said firmly. “Even if I am not a goddess of war.”

Her gaze never wavered as she took a step back. Hachiman didn’t turn to face her, and Inari knew why.

Guilt.

It clung to him, heavy and suffocating. A guilt born of his own actions—or inactions.

“You cannot hide forever, Hachiman,” she said, her tone growing sharper as she retreated. “And you cannot shield those you care about. When this war begins, no one in this land will be safe. Not you, and certainly not them.”

Still, Hachiman remained silent.

“You are a coward,” she spat bitterly. “A god who cannot even bless a boy.”

Hachiman’s eyes widened at her words, the sting of truth cutting deeper than any blade.

“Do you think the others don’t know what you’ve been doing?” Inari continued, her voice laced with scorn. “Do you think your so-called champion is blind to the existence of this new child?” She let out a derisive laugh. “The boy is fortunate—fortunate that your champion doesn’t yet see him as a threat. But he will. Every Red Dragon Emperor is a threat. And when he realizes that, he’ll come for him—and everyone around him.”

Hachiman’s fists tightened, his nails digging into his palms until the skin nearly broke.

“The question is,” Inari said, her voice a whisper now, deadly and deliberate, “will the people you care about die because you couldn’t choose a side? Or because you couldn’t bring yourself to end a boy’s life when you had the chance?”

“Inari—” Hachiman finally turned, but the goddess was already gone.

She had left him alone. Alone with his thoughts, his fears, and a growing dread that gnawed at him like a festering wound.

A dread that would soon give way to horror—a horror all too real.

And all he could do?

Was watch.

He closed his eyes and felt the wind rushing around him, turbulent and unrelenting.

“East,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the gale. “So, you’ve started from the east, Fūjin?”

…

…

[Late Night — Hyoudou Residence]

After dinner, Issei sat quietly, lost in his thoughts. Should he upgrade the system?

“Why don’t you just do it?” Ddraig, the dragon within him, grumbled. “Maybe it’ll expand the space, and I might finally get some peace for once.”

Issei couldn’t blame him for complaining. The dragon’s once tranquil domain was now shared with a floating piece of equipment and an annoyingly hyperactive slime that never stayed still.

“Oi! Stop climbing my tail!” The dragon’s exasperated shout echoed in Issei’s mind, making him chuckle.

Life was changing for him, and not just in terms of his growing strength. He had more people—and creatures—to care about now.

Earlier, on his way back from the Familiar Forest, he’d even applied for the school swim team. It had been surprisingly easy. The student council was always on campus, even on holidays, so teleporting back to school made the whole process quick. All Issei had to do was prove he could swim, and he was in. For those who couldn’t, the club had a training branch, and once they were past the “not drowning” phase, they could join the main team.

He was confident he’d pass the test. Still, his mind buzzed with everything on his plate:

Upgrading the system.

Taking that swim test.

And the looming threats—Raynare’s lead, the almost-war with the fallen, and the White Dragon Emperor.

“You can upgrade the system, kid,” Ddraig interrupted his thoughts. “It’s not like you’ll need it urgently tomorrow.”

Issei nodded. His dragon friend had a point, but something nagged at him. A feeling that upgrading the system now might cause him to miss something important, something unresolved.

“Am I overthinking this?” he muttered.

“My vote’s yes,” Ddraig quipped dryly. “You’re acting like you’ve got a Dragon King to face.”

<Upgrading the system could render it inaccessible for 24 hours. Would you like to upgrade it now? Yes/No>

The message appeared in front of him, and Issei’s finger hovered over Yes. He wanted to press it.

But before he could—

“Issei!”

A swirling red portal materialized in his room, and out stepped a certain crimson-haired princess. She was dressed in lingerie that was more suggestion than fabric.

“Please take my virginity!”