DxD : Actually Satan..?

…Yeah that sounded cooler in my head.

He tilted his head sideways.

But it's not practical to change the plan of focus so soon.

Leo let out a soft sigh and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

His eyes narrowed slightly, gaze mocing toward the floor where the faint traces of teleportation being used by him were noticeable only to someone with his ability.

He thought back to Zelretch.

To what the old vampire said.

He hated the way those words stuck with him.

Because they weren't wrong.l even if completely.

Zelretch had a point....Even if not entirely correct.

But the true reason was simpler.

He didn't see the point.

Getting stronger for what? Another fight?

Another threat?

There would always be one.

He only grew when survival forced him to and even then it was mostly done on whims and random wishes.

That was the issue.

Not that he was scared of becoming something more...But that he didn't care to.

Hell maybe him getting stronger is part of some sort of grand plan of the system where he's being manipulated to achieve something for it ?

It never sat right with him why he was given so much power by an entity....there was obviously some hidden agenda ongoing.

One which leo couldn't grasp at all.

Leo didn't carry any grand ambitions.

Or a drive to be a hero of some sort.

He didn't have a desperate need to be remembered in the annals of time.

In his life, all he ever wanted was to write a good book, maybe see it on a shelf.

Make enough money to not stress about rent.

Live a little longer than the thirty-something.

That was it.

Ordinary dreams for an ordinary man.

So him being 100 percent compatible with being the literal Satan was weird to say the least.

Leo placed a hand over his face, fingers dragging down slowly as he exhaled.

What the fuck... why am I thinking so much?

The thought echoed through his mind like a rock skipping across still water, each syllable laced with growing irritation.

He tilted his head back, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers, like it might crack open and offer him a reason not to spiral further.

I need a distraction.

His fingers curled slightly, brushing over the edge of his jaw.

He was too aware of himself right now—too awake.

He blinked.

Should I go and kill Angra Mainyu?

Plausible distraction, not going to lie ..... But not right now.

---

The iron gates of the Einzbern estate opened with a low, reluctant groan as if protesting her return.

Illya stepped through without pause.

She had walked the entire way from Shirou's house.

She could've taken a taxi or something but she didn't because she didn't want to stop moving.

The sky above was dark.

The chill didn't bother her.

A caretaker greeted her at the top of the stone steps, bowing in practiced formality.

"You've been gone for some time, Lady Illyasviel."

Illya gave her a glance. Just that.

No repy.... It's not like the caretaker had the cognitive built for that to be a requirement.

She moved past her like a ghost gliding.

The hallways were exactly as she left them.

And yet, they pressed on her nerves now, more than ever.

Her footsteps echoed as she ascended the stairs to her room.

She entered without turning on the light.

The door shut behind her with a quiet click.

She stood still for a moment. Then sat on the edge of her bed, hands resting on her knees, eyes downcast.

Her mood was still sour..

She didn't want to think about him anymore yet why does the world seem so keen on reminding her of him again and again.

Her mind drifted to someone else...

Leo.

The thought of him hit her in the quiet.

She exhaled, long and slow.

Where are you right now...?

It wasn't like her to need anyone.

At least, that's what she told herself.

But sitting there, in that cold, quiet house, her walls felt thin.

She wished he was here.

Even if he didn't say anything. Even if he just leaned on the wall like he always did, unreadable and blunt.

That would've been enough.

Hell, especially that.

Her shoulders sagged slightly, the first sign of weight catching up to her.

She didn't understand why she felt the need for Leo to be here.

Why him? Why now?

It made no sense.

It's not like he would be around my whole life...

The moment that thought crossed her mind, something inside her chest twisted—tight, sudden, and strangely sharp.

A phantom ache, like something important had just slipped out of reach.

Her hand reached into her pocket, almost automatically.

She pulled out the phone.

The one Leo had given her.

She turned on the screen.

It lit her face in white light.

There was only one number saved.

Bazett.

The woman who summoned him.

The only real connection he had in this world.

Illya stared at the name.

Something flickered in her mind —unpleasant, and difficult to name.

It was Jealousy.

It took her a second to accept the word.

She didn't even know Bazett.

But now, knowing that Bazett could just... call him...

Illya looked away from the screen and clicked it off.

The room was dark again.

The silence louder than before.

She gritted her teeth.

This was vexing.

Painful.

And she still didn't understand why that was so....

---

If you were to take a stroll through the fog-choked alleys of London on a particularly miserable day—and let's be honest, they're all miserable in their own unique way—you might find yourself passing by a rather peculiar building.

Tucked between history and hubris, it stood proud and proper, like a pensioner who still thinks the Empire hasn't collapsed.

The Clock Tower.

Headquarters of the Mage's Association.

A place filled with tweed-clad lunatics arguing over the metaphysical implications of turning frogs into soup or whether time travel voids your pension.

Now, picture this: in front of that fine establishment, there stood a lad.

Not your average bloke, mind. Sharp coat. Sharper eyes.

He wasn't sightseeing, nor was he protesting taxes—though given the state of the Tower, that wouldn't have been shocking.

Wait why is the Narration Bri'ish..?

Anyway let's change the tempo.

Yes, Leo had decided to willingly walk into the lion's den.

And He was here… to talk.

Specifically, to Zelretch.

That Crazy Vampire.

Their last meeting had been too brief.

Leo wasn't exactly focuses on stealing his secrets.

This time, he came prepared.

Focused.

Why?

Because Zelretch had done something unforgivable.

He made Leo think about himself.

Leo wasn't exactly fond of that.

So rather than let the introspection spiral into something annoying, he chose to eliminate the problem from the source.

Talk to the old man.

And maybe pick apart the Kaleidoscope.

Understand the mechanism.

It was either that, or go quietly mad.

And Leo refused to do anything quietly.

He was Satan for Hell's sake.

---

Leo entered the Clock Tower with the same ease as someone walking into a hotel lobby.

He approached the receptionist's desk calmly.

"Visitor appointment," he said, flashing a forged crest and ID.

The woman glanced at it, eyes glowing faintly as a magectaft scanned the signature.

It passed.

She nodded and waved him through.

Leo didn't stop to admire the architecture. He had a job to do.

As he walked through the halls, he turned his gaze on every magus that passed him. Every cloak, every ring, every family crest sewn , Leo memorized them all.

He didn't copy them for power.

Most magecraft here was archaic, weak, disgusting, obsessed with bloodline traditions that hadn't evolved in centuries.

But each crest was still a connection.

A line of human history, saturated with concepts of identity, memory, purpose.

Leo collected all of it—because eventually, he would need anchors when he took all the world's evils into himself.

After some time of walking, he reached the office that belonged to Zelretch.

He opened the door.

It was Empty.

He stepped in fully, and as the door shut behind him, a blast of colourful light sparked across the desk.

A folded note appeared.

Leo picked it up, unfolded it, and read:

"Go fuck yourself. —Zelretch"

And beneath it:

"You went to see ORT anyway..... No Kaleidoscope for you."

Leo stared at the note for a second.

Then he folded it neatly, put it in his coat pocket, and exhaled once.

Leo wasn't angry.

…

Who was he kidding , he was fucking livid.

The troll actually pulled a frame-perfect time jump just to outplay his future sight.

That was an insult.

It was mockery in purest form.

Leo's eyes narrowed.

Hmph… given the nature of our respective future sight, he thought, scanning the room with annoyance, the old man should've had magical girl-themed traps everywhere if he truly prepared for me.

But there were none.

Which meant this was improvised.

Zelretch hadn't seen this exact moment coming until the very last second.

That was good.

It meant he was getting closer to the level where even that bastard couldn't laugh at him anymore.

Yes leo (his mana brains ) was actively updating his future sight

Leo took a breath… then grinned slowly.

"What would piss off this old man…"

He tapped his chin in mock thought, then whispered with relish,

"I really like being Satan right about now."

---

Smoke billowed like storm clouds through the marbled halls of the Clock Tower.

The reception area was chaos — mages in embroidered coats screamed over each other, some trying to cast reinforcement spells, others fumbling with bounded fields that melted in their hands.

The air reeked of burnt parchment and fear.

Leo walked out of it.

Calm. Unhurried.

Hands stuffed into his coat pockets.

Behind him, the walls cracked, purple flames licking out from under the foundation.

A chunk of the ceiling groaned and collapsed with a thunderous crash, sending a wave of embers across the polished floor.

Leo didn't flinch.

A circle of untouched ground trailed his steps, fire refusing to touch him out of something older than fear.

His eyes were half-lidded, bored, as if he was just leaving a lecture he hadn't wanted to attend in the first place.

A mage stumbled past him, cloak singed.

He didn't get a glance.

Then came the second explosion.

A detonation that didn't sound like a bomb but it was much worse.

A shockwave of violet flame bloomed behind Leo, swallowing the upper body of the Tower in one bite.

The force knocked bodies to the floor. Glass shattered for blocks.

Leo kept walking.

Not a speck of soot on him. Not a flicker of guilt in his eyes.

He stepped past the shattered doors into the open night, the inferno painting him in purple and red.

Leo paused for just a moment.

Tilted his head.

And smiled.

"I'm loving this...."

The flame actually wouldn't harm anybody.

It'll only destroy the clocktower.

Just enough that Zelretch would have to come and use the klaideoscope to restore it.

Leo was also not at all afraid of Zelretch at this moment because he was sire this was a future the old man already saw.

======================

I'm a bit rusty.

Power Stones and Reviews please