DxD:BattleFront

Chapter 9

The morning sun peeked through the curtains of Issei's room, casting golden rays across his desk cluttered with notes, textbooks, and the occasional dumbbell. With a groggy yawn, he rolled out of bed, stretching his arms as he headed to the bathroom to get ready for school.

Three months of Victor's brutal training had completely changed him—inside and out. As he stood in front of the mirror, he took a moment to assess himself.

The first thing that stood out was his body. His once slim, twinkish frame was now far more athletic. His shoulders had broadened slightly, and while his muscles weren't heavily defined, they carried a solid, lean quality that hadn't been there before. His stomach now sported faintly visible abs, and his arms had gained enough tone to make him look like someone who worked out regularly. Even without activating his Sacred Gear, he felt stronger, faster, and more capable than ever.

"Man… I'm really starting to look like an athlete," he muttered, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. But then his grin faltered, and his gaze shifted to his hair.

His once-messy mop of brown hair had been reduced to something… unrecognizable. He ran a hand through what could only be described as a bowl cut—or, as Victor had called it, an "elevated mushroom cut."

The memory of how this disaster happened made him groan in frustration.

Three weeks into his training, he'd made an offhand comment to Victor about how his hair kept getting in the way during intense workouts. Victor's reaction was surprisingly neutral, but Valerie, who was lounging nearby, had perked up immediately.

"Issei, I can cut your hair for you!" she had offered cheerfully, scissors somehow already in hand.

Victor's reaction had been immediate and dramatic. He stood behind Valerie, forming a giant X with his arms while shaking his head wildly.

"Issei," he'd mouthed silently, his expression a mix of warning and desperation.

But Issei, being Issei, hadn't noticed. Instead, he thought Valerie's enthusiasm was endearing.

"Really? Thanks, Valerie!" he'd replied, completely ignoring the warning signs.

What followed was nothing short of a disaster. Valerie, who clearly had zero experience with hairstyling, had gone to town with the scissors. Chunks of hair flew in every direction as she hummed to herself, clearly enjoying the process. When she finally stepped back to admire her handiwork, Issei had turned to Victor, his heart sinking at the sight of the big man pressing his hands to his temples, shaking his head.

The mirror revealed the horrifying truth: a bowl cut so uneven it looked like it had been done by someone blindfolded.

"Victor, why didn't you stop her?!" Issei had wailed.

Victor simply sighed, his voice heavy with resignation. "I tried, kid. You walked right into this one."

Unable to face the world with Valerie's "creation," Issei had rushed to the nearest barber, who'd done their best to salvage the mess. Unfortunately, the damage was already done, and the result was… well, what Issei now sported: a cleaner, slightly more even bowl cut.

Looking at his reflection now, Issei sighed. "At least it's practical," he muttered, trying to convince himself.

After throwing on his uniform, he casually summoned his Boosted Gear. The crimson gauntlet materialized on his left arm with a faint glow.

"Yo, Ddraig," Issei said, inspecting the Gear. "After three months of this insane training, how strong am I now?"

The familiar voice of the Welsh Dragon rumbled in his mind. You've grown considerably, Partner. In terms of raw power, you're at the peak of the Low-Class in the supernatural world.

Issei blinked, his brow furrowing. "Low-Class? That's it? After all this work, I'm still that low?"

Ddraig snorted. Ungrateful brat. Do you have any idea how impressive that is? Most humans wouldn't even dream of reaching the peak of Low-Class in their entire lives. And you've done it in three months.

Issei scratched the back of his head, looking a little sheepish. "I guess… but it still sounds kinda weak."

Weak? Ddraig's voice boomed in irritation. Partner, if you used the Boosted Gear and stacked just five Boosts, you'd be able to reach the lower end of High-Class. That's a level where you could take on devils and other supernatural beings with decades of training under their belt. And that's just your current state. Imagine what you'll achieve with more time.

The dragon's words hit Issei like a ton of bricks. "Wait… seriously? I'm already that strong?"

Yes, and you're only scratching the surface of what the Boosted Gear can do, Ddraig said. But power is nothing without control, and Victor is right to focus on building your foundation. If you're impatient and try to rush things, you'll only end up hurting yourself—or worse, someone you care about.

Issei nodded slowly, his expression growing more determined. "Yeah, you're right. I'll keep at it. I just… I wanna get strong enough to protect everyone, you know?"

That's the spirit, Partner. Just don't forget that strength alone won't solve everything. Keep your heart in the right place.

With a deep breath, Issei dismissed the Boosted Gear, letting the gauntlet fade into red sparks.

"All right," he said to himself, slinging his school bag over his shoulder. "Time to face another day at Kuoh Academy. Let's hope nobody notices the bowl cut."

As Issei walked into Kuoh Academy, he felt a strange sense of confidence. Sure, his training was intense, and his body was sore most of the time, but at least he was improving. He could proudly say he wasn't the same scrawny kid he'd been three months ago.

Unfortunately, that confidence didn't last long.

The moment he stepped onto campus, he felt the stares. Whispers began spreading like wildfire, and it wasn't long before the first comment hit him.

"Issei, what happened to your hair?" one girl asked, barely holding back a giggle.

"Dude, nice bowl cut!" his friend Matsuda teased, bursting into laughter. Motohama wasn't far behind, adjusting his glasses as he snorted. "You look like you just walked out of a retro comedy skit."

Issei groaned inwardly, his hand subconsciously brushing over his hair. He knew he shouldn't have trusted Valerie with scissors. The teasing continued throughout the day, from classmates to even a few teachers who raised their eyebrows but didn't say anything outright. By lunchtime, Issei was ready to dig a hole and bury himself.

But then came the real problem.

It was during lunch, as he sat with Matsuda and Motohama, that the realization hit him like a freight train.

"Man, it's almost fall already," Matsuda said, munching on his bread. "Final exams are coming up soon. I'm screwed."

"Same," Motohama added. "I've barely studied at all. Too busy playing the new RPG that dropped last month."

Issei froze mid-bite. Final exams? His heart sank as he realized he hadn't cracked open a single textbook in three months. He'd been so focused on training with Victor and enduring Valerie's "support" that academics had completely slipped his mind.

Panic began to set in. If he bombed his finals, his parents would kill him—assuming Valerie didn't get to him first.

"I-I'll catch you guys later," Issei stammered, standing abruptly and bolting from the cafeteria. He needed help, and he needed it now.

Issei ran straight to Victor's room, throwing the door open without knocking. He found the big man hunched over a desk, his head in his hands. A math textbook lay open in front of him, along with a notebook filled with scribbles and equations.

Victor muttered to himself, his voice filled with despair. "Come on, Victor, you've graduated college. This should be easy. How is this so hard?!"

Issei froze in the doorway, his panic momentarily replaced by disbelief. Even Victor is struggling with this?!

Victor glanced up, noticing Issei for the first time. "What do you want, kid? If it's about training, I'm busy."

"I, uh…" Issei hesitated, then shook his head. "Never mind. I'll figure it out myself."

He backed out of the room, closing the door quietly. If Victor was struggling, there was no way he could rely on him for help. He was on his own.

That night, as Issei sat at his desk trying to focus on studying, he felt an all-too-familiar, bone-chilling sensation creeping up his neck.

"No way…" he muttered, his hands trembling as the black collar materialized around his throat.

Before he could even react, an intense jolt of electricity surged through him, making him convulse and fall out of his chair.

"I thought… it was only for three months…" he groaned, his muscles spasming as he tried to catch his breath.

The door to his room creaked open, and Valerie stepped in with her usual cheery demeanor, tilting her head with an innocent smile. "Hi, Issei. Neglecting your training again, huh? That's a bad habit."

Issei tried to sit up, his voice hoarse. "V-Valerie… wait… I was just… I needed to study…"

But Valerie didn't listen. Instead, her eyes scanned the room, her sharp gaze zeroing in on his hidden stash. With a single tug, she pulled out a box filled with magazines and DVDs from under his bed.

"Ah, here they are," Valerie said, holding up the stash like it was a trophy. "This should be a good start."

"No! Not those!" Issei cried, dragging himself across the floor toward her.

"Oh, what's this?" Valerie continued, walking to the corner of the room where his gaming console sat. "Looks like we've got more distractions here. Don't mind if I do."

"Wait, wait!" Issei grabbed her leg weakly, his body still recovering from the shock. "The agreement was just about the porn! Why are you taking my games?! I haven't even finished those!"

Valerie leaned down, her face mere inches from his, her playful smile almost cruel. "Hmm, I think it's fine. The more the merrier," she said with a light chuckle.

Without another word, she dragged the stash—and Issei, still clinging to her leg—out to the backyard. Valerie waved her hand, conjuring a large pile of magical flames.

"No! Stop! Don't do this!" Issei begged, his voice breaking as he watched her throw his collection onto the fire.

The flames roared, quickly consuming the magazines, DVDs, and even his gaming console.

"I'll train, okay?!" Issei screamed, tears streaming down his face. "I'll never skip again! Just give them back!"

The desperation and anguish in his voice triggered something deep within him. His Sacred Gear materialized on his arm, its crimson light blazing with newfound intensity.

"BOOST! BOOST! BOOST!" The familiar chant filled the air as a fiery red aura engulfed him. The Boosted Gear shifted and expanded, morphing into a massive, draconic plate mail that covered his body. His Balance Breaker, the Red Dragon Emperor's Armor, had awakened.

With the ground trembling under his feet, Issei stood tall, the power of the Red Dragon Emperor flowing through him. His wings flared open, and the crimson glow of his armor lit up the dark yard.

"Give… them… BACK!" he roared, his voice echoing like thunder.

Valerie, completely unfazed, tilted her head and smiled sweetly. "Oh, that's cute. But no."

Before Issei could take another step, Valerie raised her hand. The black collar around his neck glowed ominously, and with a flick of her wrist, another jolt of electricity surged through him.

"AGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGAGA!" Issei screamed, his body locking up as the collar's magic overloaded his nervous system. His Balance Breaker flickered and shattered, the armor crumbling away like broken glass.

Issei collapsed to the ground, twitching and weak. By the time he regained enough strength to move, the flames had died down, leaving only a pile of ashes where his collection once was.

He crawled to the remains, grabbing a charred piece of plastic from his gaming console, only for it to crumble to dust in his hands.

Issei fell to his knees, staring blankly at the ashes. The light in his eyes was gone, replaced by the hollow gaze of a broken man.

Valerie patted his head gently, smiling as though she'd done him a favor. "There, all done! Now you can focus on what really matters: training. Goodnight, Issei!"

With that, she skipped back into the house, leaving Issei kneeling in the backyard under the cold, uncaring moonlight.

From that night on, Issei swore he would never neglect his training again—even if it killed him.