Path of Conquest

"Hoshino Kun, it seems you have succeeded in summoning a Heretic God and killing him. Sena has been worried about you. Do you want to meet her?" The young woman with short blonde hair, a tall and statuesque figure, a delicate, almost doll-like face, and piercing blue eyes spoke with a composed yet admiring tone.

She was dressed impeccably in a butler uniform, the crisp lines of her attire accentuating her refined elegance.

Her congratulations for his extraordinary feat in slaying a Heretic God were sincere, but she made sure to mention Sena, as if that particular name carried a weight that couldn't be ignored—Sena Kashiwazaki, to be precise.

She was from the classic anime.

This anime's name was Haregasai, a character from an older anime often compared to Oregairu. These shows were classic—vintage gold for enthusiasts—but, honestly, Hoshino Kun had forgotten most of the details.

The only parts he could recall about Haregasai's series involved a plot centering on a boy who was constantly misunderstood by those around him.

Thanks to his unkempt, dirty-blonde hair and a face that radiated an aura of criminal, he was frequently mistaken for a delinquent. His expression, which seemed to scream "thug" or "mafia member," didn't help matters.

The story unfolded as this boy joined a club called the Neighbor's Club, an initiative started by Yozora Mikazuki—a character often referred to as a knockoff of Yukino Yukinoshita from Oregairu.

The club's purpose was as simple as it was tragic: to help its socially awkward members form friendships with each other. That was the extent of what Hoshino Kun could remember about the anime. It had been so long since he'd watched it that most of the plot was lost to the haze of time.

Even so, he had to admit one thing: while Yozora was a decent character, Yukino from Oregairu was undeniably superior.

However, there was one notable exception—Sena Kashiwazaki.

Between Yozora, Yukino, and Sena, it was no contest. Sena outshone them all.

As a self-proclaimed degenerate with a fondness for Pokémon collecting and admiring anime girls, Hoshino Kun had to concede that Sena was, without a doubt, in a league of her own.

If you were to look up her image on Google, it would be impossible to disagree. Sena was breathtakingly gorgeous, her beauty a perfect balance of cute and sexy. Her facial features alone were enough to leave anyone mesmerized, but her body was something else entirely—an embodiment of erotic perfection.

Her pale, porcelain-like skin had an otherworldly brilliance, glistening under any light as if it were polished marble. Her curves were generous yet harmonious, striking a tantalizing balance that made her stand out even more.

Compared to Yukino, who was flat-chested, Sena's voluptuous figure was undeniably more appealing.

Hoshino Kun's deep fondness for Sena wasn't purely based on her physical beauty, though it certainly played a significant role.

His connection to her ran deeper.

After he and his sister had escaped the clutches of the orphanage they once called hell, he found himself enrolled in the same elementary school as Sena. Their paths crossed again in junior high, forging a long history of shared experiences.

However, their journeys diverged in high school when Sena opted to attend St. Chronica's Academy, a prestigious institution owned by her father.

The school, once an all-girls academy, had recently become co-educational and was steeped in a religious tradition that appealed to Sena's sense of comfort and familiarity.

St. Chronica's was a stark contrast to Suuchin Academy, the high-pressure, elite school that Hoshino attended. Suuchin demanded nothing less than excellence from its students, with a strict and grueling environment that pushed them to their limits.

Sena had no interest in such a competitive atmosphere, preferring the relative ease and security of her father's school.

It suited her personality perfectly—she valued comfort and stability over the cutthroat academic race Suuchin represented.

"I will visit her soon, Scarlet," he answered, his voice carrying a weight of calm assurance.

The woman in question, Scarlet Redfield, was no ordinary butler.

She was the illegitimate daughter of Sena's father, which, by extension, also made her Sena's half-sister. What made their relationship even more intriguing was how strikingly similar Scarlet's facial features were to Sena's, almost as if they had been cast from the same mold.

However, while Sena embodied the sultry allure of a goddess, exuding a sensual charm that could captivate anyone who laid eyes on her, Scarlet's appeal was of a different kind.

Her hair was cut short, accentuating her strong jawline and piercing eyes, which gave her aura not easy to be messed with. Instead of exuding femininity in its traditional sense, Scarlet possessed a raw, masculine beauty, making her a stark but fascinating contrast to her more overtly seductive sister.

Her surname, Redfield, stood apart from Sena's due to her birth circumstances.

She was not the product of a lawful union but rather the consequence of a secret affair, conceived by her father and a mistress outside the sanctity of marriage.

Yet, the true reasons behind her choice to conceal her familial connection to Sena, and the deeper story behind the surname she carried, remained mystery.

He had deliberately refrained from prying into these secrets. After all, no one appreciated having their buried truths unearthed by someone nosy enough to dig where they didn't belong.

Instead, he chose to present himself as a gentleman, someone respectful and likable, especially to women, rather than coming across as a stalker or an obsessive freak.

This decision, however, left him in the dark about the full truth surrounding Scarlet's identity and her motives for hiding the sibling bond.

At present, they were seated in the sleek, shadowy interior of a luxury car.

He reclined in the back seat, arms loosely crossed, while Scarlet sat with a rigid focus in the driver's seat, her eyes locked on the road ahead.

The silence between them was not tense but carried the weight of unspoken words, each lost in their thoughts.

Despite the scars of his dark and unforgiving past—scars etched into his psyche like brands—he had never allowed the bitterness of betrayal or the poison of mistrust to weigh him down for long.

He knew better than to dwell in the ruins of his history.

To carve a future where both he and his sister could rise above their former lives and claim legitimacy and power in high society, he had to act decisively.

His past had offered him nothing but pain and torment.

All he had possessed back then was his wits, his resolve, and a single artifact of unimaginable power: his Cursed Gear.

That weapon, a demonic sword imbued with untold power, was no mere tool. It was the result of a contract forged in desperation.

He had struck a deal with Mujika, a demon whose name carried equal measures of reverence and fear. Known as both a savior and a disaster to her kind, Mujika possessed blood so unique that it could evolve demons, removing their insatiable hunger for human flesh.

Yet her gift was seen as a threat. To the ruling elite of the demon world, those whose power and wealth depended on the exploitation of humans, Mujika was a dangerous aberration that had to be silenced.

They hunted her relentlessly, branding her a heretic whose existence threatened the very foundation of their society.

It was this persecution that allowed him to strike his bargain.

Mujika, desperate and hunted, agreed to aid him and the orphaned children he had brought with him in escaping the demon world.

Their destination: the human world, more specifically Japan.

The price of her aid, however, was steep. She sought his help in realizing her dream of a world where demons no longer preyed on humans, a noble but naive ideal.

But his intentions were far from noble. The contract he offered was a deception, carefully crafted to ensnare her.

With the help of Him—a being worshipped as a god by the demons, a divinity entity hiding in plain sight within their society—he sealed Mujika's essence into his cursed sword.

Her power now belonged to him, a tool for his ambitions.

Though worshipped fervently in the demon world, few knew the truth of His existence.

And it was His machinations that had set the stage for his escape, the deal they struck forming the cornerstone of everything he now sought to build.

As the car sped forward, the weight of his choices settled over him.

Perhaps you're wondering why he had no intention of honoring his deal with Mujika. Well, the truth was simple yet brutal: there was no way in hell he would ever follow through. His hatred for demons ran bone-deep.

Those creatures had tormented him and his sister, treating them as nothing more than livestock, disposable playthings, and had come horrifyingly close to ending their lives on multiple occasions.

The sheer rage and loathing he harbored for them had crystallized into an unbreakable desire for vengeance.

Mujika's plea for him to foster understanding and build a fragile peace between humans and demons was nothing short of a sick joke.

To him, the idea was laughable, preposterous, and utterly impossible. It was a wish that would never be granted, not in a million years.

No, his path was a bloodstained one, and it had a clear purpose: he would hunt down and kill every last demon that walked the earth, one by one, until there was not a single monster left to take another breath.

And yet, there were exceptions, because even in his merciless revenge, he was not without a twisted sense of mercy.

He would spare only those demons who held some worth in his eyes—those he considered assets, the ones he found useful for his ambitions.

Mujika herself fell into this rare category, not because he truly cared about her ideals, but because she was one of the few he could manipulate to serve his ends.

Still, his affection for demons was a poison-tipped blade, selective and conditional, and mercy was a rare indulgence he granted only when it suited him.

In summary, his past was a grim tale, a story of a poor boy who possessed nothing of value except a hauntingly dark history and the Cursed Gear.

He had no wealth to call his own, no powerful connections to rely on, and no family to turn to—except for Ai, who had escaped with him.

To make matters worse, the omnipresent gaze of God lingered over him, watching his struggles with detached amusement, treating his suffering as nothing more than entertainment.

This divine mockery only added salt to the wound, deepening his resentment.

So, what could he possibly do?

No, the better question was, what should he do when the odds were so thoroughly stacked against him, especially since he was merely a child back then?

The answer was simple yet ruthless: adapt and manipulate.

He turned his sights toward Sena, recognizing her worth instantly, a means to climb rank to the high society. He forged a connection with her, weaving his way into her life until she became entirely dependent on him.

Her wealth and societal influence were exactly what he needed, and, in truth, she was the most accessible target.

Unlike someone like Yukino, who would have been much more difficult to manipulate, Sena was malleable, submissive even, and this made her conquest all the easier.

Through his calculated relationship with her, he gained access to high society, the elite world that had always been beyond his reach.

Exploiting this, he smoothly infiltrated the upper echelons of high society, using his newfound status to make influential allies.

One of the most useful connections he forged was with Freed Sellzen. By befriending Freed, he gained critical insights into supernatural forces, studying them intently and training himself to wield these newfound powers, especially since Mujika had grown bitterly unwilling to speak to him or offer her aid after his betrayal.

When Freed was eventually excommunicated and left destitute, rejected by the very institutions he once served, he seized the opportunity.

He offered Freed a shelter, a place to belong, and even put on a convincing facade, pretending to harbor a deep, relentless hatred for demons and devils, burning with a desire to see them annihilated.

This hatred wasn't entirely feigned—there was a very real, visceral loathing there—but it also served as a means to an end.

Freed, in his twisted excitement, found solace in having a like-minded companion, someone who shared his zeal for exterminating anything demonic.

This was the undeniable benefit of becoming part of High Society. It wasn't just the wealth and influence that served his goals; it was the ability to manipulate individuals like Freed, binding them tighter to his cause.

With this kind of power and connections, he knew when Freed was being excommunicated, and his wealth could provide him shelter.

His connections and influence made it easy for him to spot rogue demons, stray devils, or any supernatural forces that would do him no good.

With every ounce of newfound power, he tightened his control.

He became the unseen puppet master, whispering into Freed's ear, giving him the precise locations of stray devils, demons, and any supernatural entities that posed a threat to human stability.

Freed, eager to prove himself and indulge his bloodlust, would carry out the brutal work without hesitation.

It didn't matter whether his targets were wicked monsters or innocent souls caught in the crossfire.

There would be no mercy.

Their mere existence was an unforgivable crime, and for the sake of his safety and that of those he held dear, every one of them needed to be obliterated.

From this perspective, it became crystal clear just how useful Freed truly was when properly manipulated.

"We have arrived, Hoshino-kun," came a voice, pulling him from his thoughts.

He smirked, his gaze cold and calculating.

"Yeah. We've arrived."

Now, it was time.

Time to meet the so-called Vocaloid Princess.

And after that?

Dominate Japan.

Then the world.