189 My SI Stash #89 - Asmodeus, an Astounding Ardor by KaliYugaFan (DxD)

-Haven't been reading a lot lately thanks to league and studies. Here's another SI DxD fic~ Crack fic with SI as one of the leaders of the Old Satan Faction, Creuserey Asmodeus!

Sypnosis: ???

Rated: M

Words: 22K

Posted on: https://forum.questionablequesting.com/threads/asmodeus-an-astounding-ardor-dxd-si.10352/ (KaliYugaFan)

PS: If you're not able to copy/paste the link, you have everything in here to find it, by simply searching the author and the story title. It sucks that you can't copy links on mobile (´ー｀)

-I'll be putting the chapter ones of all the fanfics mentioned, to give you guys a sample if you wan't more please do go to the website and support the author! (And maybe even convince them to start uploading chapters in here as well!)

Chapter 0+1

Newsflash, friends: dying isn't pleasant. Speaking from experience here, it really fucking bites. One moment you're on your way out the door of your studio apartment, adjusting your tie and stepping out to start up your piece-of-shit Subaru Legacy. You're nearly late and you really need to book it to get to the office on time. He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Bumped-Into-Before-Lunch, AKA your boss at the legal firm where you intern before class, is not exactly the forgiving sort, and you already know he'll waste even more of your time whinging before he lets you actually get to work. All in all, not a pleasant time for anyone involved.

So, maybe you didn't exactly look both ways before you crossed the little street to get to the parking lot where your faithful shit-box of nearly two hundred thousand miles was parked. Honestly, barely anybody drives out here, it's practically not even a real street for god's sake! Of course, being the unfortunate soul that you are, you end up giving a big fat smooch right to the grill of Truck-kun. After that, Truck-kun decides to get a little adventurous with this first-base experience, thoroughly exploring your tongue, the inside of your mouth, your neck, and finishes the whole sordid affair with a glorious exit. Through the back of your head.

Yeah, if you're slow to catch on, this isn't a hypothetical. I got absolutely pulverized by a truck. My head blew up like a ripe watermelon betwixt a female bodybuilder's thighs, and though that would totally be an awesome way to go out, it's not quite the same experience when the female bodybuilder in question is actually a U-Haul truck. You know what? This is actually nothing like being lovingly crushed by a female bodybuilder, what the fuck am I even saying?

So yeah, I'm dead. Dead as fuck. Completely dead. Soul has left body, head has left shoulders, innocence has left U-Haul driver. I'm sure you get the picture by now. What happens next, you may ask? Solid question, and one I'm still more or less pondering. My personal thoughts on the afterlife were pretty generic: tunnel of light, pearly gates, judging my sins, the whole nine yards. I've been a Baptist since I was 20, and though I'm not the most faithful lamb of god by any means, I do my best to go to sermon on Sundays and generally not be a complete shit-bag of a human being. Heaven should be pretty sweet, right? Peace, love, all that Kumbaya shit? That's always sounded like a good deal to me, so I like to think I've made a decent effort at being a good person.

Turns out that either my shitty luck has continued even into the afterlife, or my predictions are way off. Let me try to put the scene before me into words for you folks. White. Okay, maybe not words so much as word. But you guys can't blame me, because that's all it is. Just fucking white all around me. I've got my head, or at least I think I do, since I can clearly see myself. All around me, white. Do I even have depth perception? I literally can't tell where the white begins or ends. There's not a horizon or anything, and my body (soul?) isn't casting a shadow, so I've got absolutely no clue where any light is coming from. Am I hallucinating? These could be like my last thoughts, as my brain was turned into Jamba Juice by that front bumper. Fuck, why didn't I have cool last thoughts! Okay, I've still got time. Think cool shit, come on, think cool shit!

"Uhhh... 1969 Lincoln Continentals! Going to the opening show of the Yeezus Tour! Competing at State for Wrestling in High School! Freshman year Syllabus Week! Losing my virginity! Wait, fuck, that one was kinda lame and forgettable. Okay, okay, uh, anime titties! Anime titties!? Fucking hell, I really am pathetic. I hope God doesn't hold this one against me. Sorry Big Guy, but 3d women aren't valid! If that's bad enough for me to go hell, I just hope Satan isn't into NTR doujin!" Okay, now I'm really asking for it. Shit, stupid brain, stupid anime titties, stupid Truck-kun, shit shit shit! Why am I even in this weird-ass white landscape? What kind of stupid afterlife is this?!

[Ahem... Are you quite done?]

Ahhh!!! What the fuck?! There's another person here? "Oh god, did they hear my monologue about Satan and NTR? Am I speaking or thinking right now?" Fuck!

[Definitely speaking, mortal.]

"Where's that voice coming from? Are you God? I take it back! Please don't make me read NTR doujin with Satan! I want to go up to Heaven! We can read wholesome fluff stories about hand-holding and true love! I promise I'm a good roommate, I clean the dishes on time and I don't even come home wasted on weekends anymore!"

[Uh...]

Oh God, please don't send me to Hell!

[You know what, forget this. I had this entire amazing entrance scene planned out. There was a speech, and I was going to come down with a big "whump" noise like they do in those super-hero films the casuals among your kind enjoy so much, and it was going to be more impressive than anything you've ever seen. Guess what's not going to happen now?]

"Uh... your super cool entrance?"

[Bingo, kid. Bingo. We are no longer going to do that, because you look like you're about to soil your pants, and I am rapidly losing brain cells the longer I'm near you.]

"Hey... Are you calling me dumb?"

[Ah, so the life-form does have intelligence after all!]

Yeah, you're definitely calling me dumb, aren't you? "Stupid asshole God, stupid Truck-kun, stupid boss, stupid Subaru Legacy..." I'm totally muttering right now like a bitch, aren't I?

[...I'm going to ask this politely and slowly, because I already know the alternative is too messy for these clothes. Please. Stop. Talking.]

Got it!

[Ah, silence, thou art a balm for mine weary heart.]

Do I still have to be silent?

[No, no. Don't speak. Just let me have this peace for now.]

Alright, this is getting kind of hard. I've got a boat-load of questions, and the Weird Voice wasn't quite accurate when he said I looked like I was about to soil my pants. Sort of beat him to the chase on that one, actually. It's rather uncomfortable, and if he's God he can probably just poof me up some new clothes, right? "Hey, uh... God?"

[Sigh... Yes, mortal?]

"Uh, well, I know you said no talking and all, but, ah, well it's kinda awkward and all... hehe..." I petered off, doing my best to look away.

[Please, for the love of all that is good, spit it out.]

"Can I get some new pants?"

[...]

Yeah, in case you didn't read that, it means silence. It's very, very silent. You know what awkward silence is like? You probably don't know what awkward silence is like when it's interrupted by the drip-drip-drip of warm liquid on the alabaster mindscape of the afterlife, courtesy of your pissed pants. None of this has been pleasant, but this is downright unpleasant. My thigh feels very damp, and it's not comfortable by any stretch of the imagination.

Wooh, new pants! Oh man, that feels great. It's not even damp anymore, thank you God! That was getting awful, my leg was starting to get jumpy and everything. "Thanks God! What brand are these? They're really comfy!"

[They are a construct of my will, given corporeal shape by my power and wrapped around you to form a cocoon of my holy protection. But I am going to take a wild guess here and say that what I just said does not mean a single thing to you, so just pretend they are Ralph Lauren.]

Yeah, he's got my card there, I don't know what any of that means. Roll with the punches, just pretend they're your favorite slacks that your mom got you for your birthday two years ago. "You've got great taste, God! We should go to the next sale at Nordstrom's together to pick up more of these!"

[Hard pass. Now, onto what we are here for. I am the assigned director of this sector of the universe, the all-powerful Universal Dimensional Guardian, also known as-]

"Are you a ROB?"

[...yes. Yes, I am a ROB.]

"Am I going to get Isekai-ed?"

[Yes, yes you are going to get Isekai-ed, mortal. Now, as I was saying, I am the Universal Constant #34, known to all as the Great Watcher, the Guiding Hand of the Multiverse and the Plucker of Strings-]

Alright, this is either going to end really badly or it's going to be the coolest shit ever. Please don't be Berserk, please don't be Berserk, please don't be Berserk! Fuck, not Attack on Titan either! Oh God, what if I end up in Warhammer? Fuck, fuck, fuck this is bad!

[-I who am infinitely aware, I see all, I move among the universes like a flowing river and help the heroes of each world float to the top and- Are you even listening?]

Oh, he was still talking. Shit, okay. I picked my ear as if there was earwax in the afterlife, and looked at the ROB rather sheepishly. "Eh heh... sorry about that, Robby, got distracted a bit... Say, I've been pretty good in life, right? Like, good enough to not get sent to a horrible GrimDark nightmare world where the universe only knows war and despair?"

[Alright, first of all my name is NOT fucking Robby. Don't ever call me that again.]

Mou! It's so hard remembering all those titles though! I guess I don't want to offend the being who controls my life now though... "Ehh, sorry about that, Mr. ROB sir!"

[...and somehow you call me something even more outrageously stupid. Just... ugh, just stick with Robby.]

At this, I could somehow hear the omnipotent super-God creature thing audibly retch at his own words. Robby isn't such a bad name, what's his problem? One of my best friends was named Robby, and he's a very successful real estate agent now!

"Alright Robby, but really though! Am I going to be punished for my sins by being sent to a crapsack world of pain and misery?"

[The idea gains more merit in my mind the longer I am near you, Mortal. But alas, the Council has already decided on your location. There are roles that need to be filled, and it will be your duty to correct certain imbalances in this location.]

Yes! Oh thank you God, thank you Robby, thank you Truck-kun! I'm not going to die in 40k! Or Berserk! Or Attack on Titan! Sinking down to my knees (man these pants really have some solid stretch denim in them!) I bow at Robby's feet in prostration, my joy flowing forth like a raging river. "Oh thank you Robby! I was so worried for a second there! Oh, thank God!"

[Ahem... Yes, quite. As I was saying, there are imbalances in this world, certain aspects that have been lost that endanger the world's continued existence. Normally, we would let the course of events flow naturally, and let the world in question reap what it sowed. However, within the last year, we have noticed irregularities in these imbalances that may threaten to spill out into other worlds. Now, it has become a multiversal problem as opposed to a universal one, and we are required to step in. After all, we are the only ones allowed to tamper with multiverse travel.]

Ehh?! Multiple universes in danger? This sounds like a big mess! But... why am I involved? "Hey, Robby... how come it's me? I'm just a 22 year old with a part-time job and an almost-finished bachelor's. How come you guys couldn't get like, 1970's Arnold Schwarzenegger to handle it or something?"

[First of all, we don't deal with time travel, we deal with dimension hopping. Go talk to the morons at the Universal Timestream Guardians for that sort of thing. Secondly, the Council had you picked out since birth, the incident with the automobile was simply fortuitously timed.]

"Oh, that's a relief! For a second there I thought you planned out my death so you could resurrect me as some sort of servant and never tell me, instilling some sort of false loyalty that you could use for your own advancement in a strange society that I was going to be thrust in without warning!"

[Alright, just think of the signing bonus... Three months paid vacation, no more dealing with UC76 shooting his stupid guns at 5 in the morning... Think of the signing bonus, just think of the signing bonus...]

"Eh, you alright there Robby? You're kind of freaking me out here, bud."

[Ahem, yes, mortal I am fine. Perfectly fine. Now, as I was saying, we need you to ingratiate yourself with those responsible for these irregularities, and stop them at their source. In addition, there are certain aspects that have been lost that must be restored for a particular sector of society to flourish again. This sector is highly important for the general well-being of the world as a whole.]

Alright! Get cozy with the bad guys, save the day, restore the power, this is just like Mission Impossible! "Sounds swell, Robby! So, what world am I going to?"

[Your presence is required in the Underworld, to stop the machinations of the own known as Euclid Lucifuge.]

Underworld? That's pretty vague, lots of universes have Underworlds, that could be anything... Wait, did he just say Lucifuge?! "Robby, be straight with me here bud. Are you sending me to an ecchi light novel series about the Supernatural?"

[That would be correct, yes.]

"The same light novel series where breasts ignore gravity and power levels ignore suspension of disbelief?"

[That is certainly one description of the world, yes.]

"The very same best-selling ecchi light novel series where the main character gets all of the plot-relevant ladies to fall madly in love with him and join his harem?"

[Are you just reading off the Amazon e-book description now?]

"Two more questions, Robby."

[Sigh... Go ahead, mortal. Please make them short.]

"You're not like the editors, are you?"

[I'm not sure I understand what that means.]

"Like, you're not going to... you know, stop me from actually getting the goods?"

[If you are insinuating that I would intervene in the wake of your coitus, let me remind you that there is a reason why I am number 34 of the Universal Constants.]

"Ah, cool, cool. Last question, Robby. Since I've got a ROB as my patron in this world, I guess whoever I inhabit is like the new main character instead of Issei, right?"

[You could certainly make that argument, yes. I am vastly above any beings confined to this one paltry dimension of reality.]

"Okay, okay. So I'm the new main character in a borderline-hentai light novel series about supernatural fighters with giant breasts, and you're not going to cockblock me from actually scoring some coochie."

[While needlessly vulgar and disturbingly childish for a man in his 20's, that is essentially correct. In fact, the missing aspect here is quite relevant to your question. The Seven Deadly Sins are no longer embodied by their respective Princes of Hell, and we need you to fix that. Fittingly, you are in charge of Lust. You'll eventually have to get the others to work on their Aspects as well, but for now, focus on your own domain.]

"Well why the fuck didn't you just start off with that, Robby?!"

[I really don't get paid enough for this...]

"They pay you? Is there like a union for you guys? Do ROB's have collective bargaining?"

[Please, please just leave and don't try to contact me unless it's incredibly urgent.]

With that, there was a sound like a thousand gongs being rung at once, and I could feel my soul spinning down into nothingness. With a startling lack of transition, my eyes snapped open and I sat up from my bed, panting heavily. I was in some sort of lavish bedroom, clearly expensive carpets lining the floor and finely carved wooden furniture around me. The room was massive, probably the size of my whole studio apartment back in the Northwest. I was lying on a four-poster bed that could probably fit half a dozen people, with beautifully carved tapestries shrouding me on all four sides. The sheets alone could fund a dictator of a small country! Where was I? Who was I?

Suddenly, an urgent pounding on the door, loud like a gunshot with each knock. In for a penny, in for a pound, I suppose. "Hello?" I called out, hoping to Robby and whoever else that would listen that I was still a grown man and not a child or God forbid, a woman. Ow! Okay, definitely Devil. Let's see here, opulently decorated room. Knocking politely but firmly instead of walking in. Hands? Pale, unblemished by scars. Pajamas? Very nice silk, extravagance bordering on garish. Pure-blood Devil? Probably.

The knocking hadn't stopped, and in fact had grown more urgent. I should probably go see who it was. Shakily standing up, I pulled aside the curtains surrounding the bed, stepping out of my seated position with the sort of fluidity I had certainly never possessed as a human. Wow, I feel fucking fantastic, actually!

I walked to the door, smoothly opening it. Before me stood a woman of average height. She had rather cute square glasses, brown hair going down into two thin ponytails and holy shit are those tits huge. Absolutely massive knockers, outstanding work ma'am. Those are a real treasure. She had on some sort of strange coat-esque get-up, with a high collar and a massive cutout diamond where her chest was. A pink undershirt (barely) preserved her modesty, and I could clearly see nipples poking out. Two sleeves went up her arms, ending halfway between her shoulder and elbow, adorned with golden bangles. The coat went down into a rather chic mini-skirt, and underneath she had on black stockings. High-heeled shoes that any human woman would kill for completed the ensemble. Man, what a woman.

I'm totally staring, aren't I? Fuck, I'm here for like three minutes and I'm already looking like a lecher. Is this a good or a bad thing?

"Uh... hey." I rasped out, trying my absolute best to appear suave and not a complete moron. Judging by her irked expression, I'm going to say it didn't quite work out.

"Why the fuck are you still in your pajamas, Creuserey? We have a meeting with the rest of the Faction in an hour!"

Wait one god(ow)damn minute, I'm WHO!?

Chapter 1

So... I'm Creuserey now. You know, the guy with the pointy elf ears and the goofy black and red get-up? Pretty tall, deep voice, looks like a Record of Lodoss War character, lasts 30 seconds of screen-time before getting summarily murked by Sirzechs? That Creuserey? Yeah, I'm in that guy's body now. Okay, time to work some magic, save the multiverse, not get killed, and get my dick wet.

Katerea, and wow is it weird seeing her in real life as opposed to on a TV screen, is still looking at me rather impatiently, and I realize at this point that I've been staring like a dead fish at her for at least a good ten seconds. Coughing quietly into my fist to clear my throat, I finally manage to tear my eyes away from her gigantic assets and straighten my spine, now towering over her by a good half a foot or more. "Ahem, my apologies. Please let Shalba know that I won't be able to make it to the meeting today. Have one of the foot-soldiers send me the meeting minutes or something, I've got something rather important to work on at the moment and it's time-sensitive. I won't make a habit of this, I swear." That's got to be at least passable, right? Arrogant, a little stiff, but not a complete dick; I think I can work with this.

The other Satan descendant looks at me owlishly behind her square-rimmed glasses, as if looking for some sign of illness, and already I can feel my resolve crumbling in the wake of her inquisitive gaze. It's not nearly as easy to keep up a facade as you would think, especially when everybody around you is liable to reduce you to atoms if they detect that something is off. A random human from another dimension inhabiting your former best buddy's body? That definitely qualifies as off. Regardless, she nods sharply after a moment, seemingly satisfied with her silent questioning. "This better be important, Creu. Wrap it up quickly and make sure to be at the next meeting. We need to present a united front or these disgusting humans will try to gain control. Whatever you're working on, don't let it jeopardize our control of the Khaos Brigade." Creu? What the fuck kind of dumb nickname is Creu? Am I a god(ow)damn Despicable Me character?

With that little speech, she turns smoothly on one heel and walks out, leaving me standing awkwardly in the doorway, still clothed in an incredibly comfortable but altogether inappropriate pair of silk pajamas. Somehow, I manage to resist the temptation to watch her walk away, though God(ow) knows it would have been a sight for the ages. Ah well, I can ogle her delightful derriere after I make sure I'm not going to die the moment I step outside of my bedroom. For now, it's time to get to work.

The first thing I do is shut the door, lock the comically large padlock above the doorknob, the second padlock at the bottom of the door, the third padlock at the top of the door, and some weird twisty knob thing that lets off an audible click when I turn it 180 degrees. Fuck it, it's some kind of lock, might as well be thorough. Now that I've got at least an illusion of security within my own bedroom, I immediately sink into a crossed leg position on the lush rug, resting the back of my head against the foot of the bed. "Hey, uh, Robby? I know you said not to contact you unless it was important, but I'm a bit out of my depth here. There's not exactly a calendar in this room, and I know damn well Katerea is going to suspect something if I ask her what the year is. When exactly am I?"

A few moments of silence, and I'm just about ready to get up and find my answers the old-fashioned way, probably by strong-arming the nearest OSF foot-soldier into giving me some information and then hopefully figuring out my magic and killing him so nobody suspects anything. Finally, my prayers (and isn't that ironic) are answered, and I feel a dull thrum behind my eyes, and the clarion voice of my all-too-tired benefactor.

[Good morning, Mortal. This certainly counts as urgent; as useless as you are, it would reflect poorly on me if I sent you out into the wilds without any information. It is currently 2007; you have roughly a year before Issei and the Fallen Angel Raynare meet. Ask me everything you need to know now, I wish to not hear from you for a long time.]

Though harsh, I can more or less understand where Robby is coming from. I really bungled my first interaction with the deity, didn't I? Eh, nothing to do about it now; I was delirious as hell and more than a little surly about work. Hopefully I can just accomplish what I'm here for and we can leave on decent terms. "Okay, so I've got a little more than a year before shit really hits the fan. And my goal here is to stop the ExE events, right? How exactly am I supposed to do that?" I whisper, as calmly as I can.

[I don't particularly care. There are no limitations on the how, though I would prefer that you don't do something even worse than multiversal tampering.]

"Yeah, I get that. I guess I just really want to know what I'm working with here. I watched a little bit of the show and I've read all the light novels, but Creus- I mean I have practically no role. I show up, I'm mad that Katerea is a corpse, and I immediately get atomized by Lucifer. I don't even know what my Clan Trait is, or what my specialties in the OSF are supposed to be."

[Ah, I see. I will do my best to explain your abilities, though experimentation and training with said power is of course your responsibility. The Asmodeus was known for his powers of poisons, ailments and afflictions. The official name, if such things matter to you, would be the Power of Entropy. Access your power and do what feels most natural; it shall come to you more easily than other schools of magic. I have also granted you a boon for your second task. You will have to unlock this on your own as the Lord of Lust.]

"So, poison? Alright, anything else that I need to know?" I can work with poison, I think. It probably won't let me last any longer against Sirzechs, or really any of the beings I'll have to eventually face, but I'm supposed to be an Ultimate-Class Devil for a reason, right? I just need to fight smart, and use every cheat and dirty tactic I can get my hands on, and maybe, just maybe, I'll survive this. Though, the second part is interesting. Robby said I have to embody the Sin of Lust in this world, and he's given me something specifically for that? I doubt it'll be great for fighting, but I'm not exactly going to be upset if he gives me a huge cock or mega-pheromones or something. Surviving won't be much fun if I can't enjoy myself as well, after all.

[The original Satan Asmodeus, your ancestor, wielded a weapon known as the Archstar. He was as famous for this mace as he was for his Power of Entropy. You should have a pseudo-empathic connection with the Archstar that will make it somewhat easier to find and bond with the weapon, but it is completely up to your discretion as to whether or not you will use the mace or not. Your canon counterpart did not.]

Well, isn't that just fucking great. You had access to some ancestral super-weapon and you didn't bother tracking it down? Dumb move, canon-me. Dumb move indeed. Alright, time to wrap this up. "I appreciate the advice, Robby. I won't bother you again unless it's urgent."

[Farewell for now, Mortal. I'm sure your useless endeavors will force me into offering advice again in the near future.]

Again, harsh but understandable. You only get one first impression, and I fucked mine up badly. "Yeah, sounds good." And with that, Robby was gone, and I could feel sweet, beautiful relief in my head once more. It had become manageable rather quickly, having a voice in your head, but now that it was gone I could feel myself loosen and relax just a tad. I need a plan. I need a detailed, but fairly straightforward plan, with enough room for interpretation that I can adapt quickly as Rizevim, Sirzechs, or anyone will inevitably fuck it all to Kingdom Come. Standing up and stretching out, I quickly walk over to my dresser, trying very hard to not stare at myself in the enormous mirror across from me. Clothes. I can't stay in my pajamas all day, as lovely as it would be. Creuserey's a big-shot OSF devil with a lot of power and a massive ego, I'm sure he's got an impressive closet to work with.

Ah, here we go. Dark grey cotton slacks, slim but not overtly skinny. A navy turtleneck hugs my lean torso and draws attention to the triangle formed by my wide shoulders and my narrow waist. Some calf-high black leather boots, polished to a shine and with a healthy cuban heel. Creuserey is obviously the arrogant sort, so I pick out a rather gaudy belt black belt with faintly visible monograms visible on the leather. A sturdy looking tactical vest to match the color of the pants, and I'm ready for action. At first I thought it would be prudent to mimic the outfit Creuserey dons in his singular canon appearance, but I'll be dead before I wear that stupid coat and cloak get-up.

Now that I'm dressed for success and have a vague idea of what I'm capable of, it's time to set up a plan of some sort. I know my goals: stopping Euclid from opening up the portals to the ExE universe, or God(ow) forbid, something even worse, and becoming the Lord of Lust. How do I do these things? Well, obviously I have to stay alive. That means not getting atomized by Sis-Con Lucifer, chopped up into some kind of freakish experiment by Sis-Con Lucifuge, tortured into insanity by The Other Lucifer, or catching the attention of pretty much the majority of the named characters. That's... well, not impossible, but it does make my job incredibly difficult. Luckily, I should have a year before things start happening, and probably fifteen months before the Khaos Brigade shenanigans kick off. I can work with that.

First up, Magic. Devil Magic is generally thought of as the most over-powered form of magic, and while I understand that "imagination-based powers" sounds like a shortcut to overwhelming power, it's really not that simple. In addition to the "power of imagination," a Devil also needs the "power to create," and some good old-fashioned common sense, though the jury is still out on that last bit. So, what can I do with Entropy? Well, there's poison in a liquid form, obviously. I slow my breathing down, smoothly breathing in through my nose and out through my mouth. Once I think I'm as calm as I can be under the circumstances, I try to imagine a thin layer of poison coating the tips of my fingers, not touching or affecting me but hovering a tenth of a millimeter above my skin. My poison has to be able to eat through anything, dissolve anything, or I'm absolutely going to fucking die. I need to maintain concentration, but thankfully my current body is definitely used to this sort of thing. Cracking open one eye, I can clearly see a purplish miasma above my nails, wavering slightly in the air but certainly there. We can't call it a success without a trial run, of course, so I take a step forward, swiping my hand at a nearby cabinet. Immediately, I can hear a sizzle and a smell like a decaying corpse. What should have been a rather light tap with my fingertips against the wood ended up carving gouges through the cabinet, and I can clearly see the purple haze eating through the rest of the wood. Within the span of three seconds, the whole cabinet is gone, the acidic magic having eaten through it entirely.

Okay, so a semi-solid form is definitely combat-viable. Can it eat through magic? Time to test that out. Focusing on the concept of a barrier, and drawing on memories that are certainly not my own, I set up the strongest shield that Creusirey would be capable of whipping up on the fly. It's not incredibly impressive or anything, but it's strong enough to repel most Middle-Class or High-Class attacks, a very solid looking wall of sickly green light that has a dull glow. Can it hold up against a swipe of my Entropy?

The answer: kind of? It definitely holds up much longer than the cabinet did, but I can see the purple marks left in the greenish barrier slowly widen and spread out, eating through the shield over the course of perhaps fifteen seconds. Alright, so magical material at a High-Class takes about five times longer to process than organic material. As much as I would like to test out something stronger, an Ultimate-Class shield for instance, I don't have the time, and that kind of magical output is definitely going to attract attention. Though, this does bring up a rather strange point. For an Old Satan Faction leader who was obviously quite proud of his heritage, why didn't Creusirey start out with this sort of magic? Instead, he just showed up, used the Ophis Snake, and then died.

As much as I would like to bemoan the lack of foresight this body's previous inhabitant held, I really don't have the time. Semi-solid is good to go, time to move on. I thought of perhaps having some sort of long-range attack, imagining a thin sliver of the strongest poison I can come up with. It shoots out with barely a sound, eating through the wall of my bedroom and vanishing. That... probably wasn't my smartest idea, to be honest. Hopefully nobody important got hit by that. Alright, let's try this with a shield set up.

I give this barrier a little bit more "juice," if you will, and it's probably powerful enough to repel any sort of attack from a High-Class Devil. Now that I've got my target in place, I just need to adjust the sliver to be even smaller, as tight and tiny as I can manage, imbue it with the value of "entropy," and... there we go. The attack is minuscule, probably the size of a grain of sand. With a flick of my finger (I have real-life finger guns now, fuck yes!) I send the attack at the barrier. This time, it is drastically less silent. A boom like a thunderclap echoes within my room, and the shield is cracked like a shattered windowpane. I can still the residual poison on the corners of each crack, eating through the remains dramatically quickly. Turns out compression is a real life-saver, huh?

The Power of Destruction is basically disintegrating everything it comes into contact with, but something tells me it can't be quite that simple. It doesn't disintegrate the air, does it? What if I expanded my Power of Entropy from a liquid to a gaseous form? A hot gas is even less dense than a cold gas, so what if I'm attacking with some kind of heated aerosol? Try to disintegrate a 100 cubic meter cloud of super-heated mustard gas, you bitch. And what about radiation? I mean, it's literally called nuclear decay, that's got to be relevant to the Power of Entropy. Devils don't really get sick by natural means, but I doubt blasting them with the equivalent of several nukes' worth of nuclear radiation will be pretty. It only takes 5 Gy of absorbed fallout to kill a human, and the victims at Hiroshima were hit with almost 10. What will 500 do to a Devil? How about 50,000? Actually, fuck that. Who needs a nuke? I've got motherfucking gamma radiation at my disposal.

And with that absolutely morbid thought process, I think it is definitely time for me to go outside. The clock says it's been nearly six hours since I ghosted Katerea and locked myself in here. My room is ruined, but I'm rich, so I'll just get some grunt to take care of this shit. I've got exactly one thing on my mind right now, and that is food. The locks take a few minutes of fiddling to properly unlock, and as I close my door on the way out, I hit the door with a magical circle, thinking of the innate properties of "locked." That should probably serve a lot better for privacy purposes than a dumb old padlock anyways.

There's got to be some sort of kitchen, dining room, or hell, even a cafeteria in this place, and thankfully Creusirey's original memories are useful in this regard. It takes perhaps a minute of walking for me to step into a rather large dining room, decorated with tasteful famous paintings (probably the originals, now that I think of it) and a great oaken table large enough to seat two dozen people. There's only six chairs at the moment, and two are occupied. Oh, lovely, I came here for a snack, and of course I immediately bump into my two best buds.

"Ah... hello, Katerea, Shalba. Pleasant afternoon we're having, no?" I am so screwed.