DXD SI : Chapter 32 : A Devil lightweight (Or Mag's first outing with Uncs)
Disclaimer - I don't own any of the characters appearing in High School DXD or the Anime or the manga whatsoever.
Oppai Club
–Magdaran Bael–
He swallowed, his throat dry, as he felt the avalanche of energy that was Odin. The All-Father of the Norse Pantheon, the father of Thor. Technically, he was not in the Top Ten strongest beings lit, but he was almost certainly just as, if not stronger than, Thor himself. After all, there had to be a reason most of the supernatural world held Odin in higher regard than Thor himself, despite the All-Father not being in a public battle for centuries.
The man had hidden himself perfectly, right up until he was standing right next to the table. Ofcourse, he could do that. Disregarding the fact that this entire bar and the pocket dimension was made up of Norse Runes, the God himself was a master of so much magic he likely had forgotten more about magic than he’d ever learned. Hiding himself from him should be child’s play for him. If someone like Azazel could do that, Odin’s stealth capabilities were likely much higher.
Unfortunately, this also meant that there was no way in hell that his strength would remain hidden. Azazel might or might not know about his true strength, but Odin? The man might be missing an eye, but he could see far more than most would with two or even more eyes.
Odin then slid in next to Azazel, pushing him to the side, as the Fallen Angel scrambled to make sure his drink did not spill. The same drink that continued refilling itself despite both of them drinking multiple glasses’ worth.
Thoroughly unprepared to meet even Azazel, his mind kind of froze at meeting Odin himself. At that point, he cursed both himself and his house for skimping on his foreign PR training. Still, beings on that level demanded respect, irrespective of their political standing, not to mention the Norse were known to be pretty neutral. They were also very isolationist, so the Three Factions hadn’t had much interaction with them, outside of regular trade treaties.
Standing up, he bowed lightly at the God, “Greetings, All-Father.” He tried to inject as much solemnity as he could, as he sat down, resisting the urge to fidget as Odin looked at him, clearly amused, “Oh? A Young and powerful Devil who’s also polite? Now, that’s certainly a surprise.”
He noted Azazel glancing at Odin before he looked at him and smirked while taking a sip of his drink. He was, he noted, also trapped in an awkward position, as the sheer mass of Odin filled three-quarters of that booth, forcing Azazel to hold his arms closer to his body. The smirk’s impact was reduced when the man’s hands were folded. Cursing at the fact that Odin basically confirmed something for Azazel, since the concept of powerful was certainly going to be different for someone on the same level as Odin.
Odin then tapped his finger on the table, the very act sending a cascading wave of magic all around the table and into the floor, after which it likely travelled everywhere, but that was the extent of his tracking abilities, as multiple Drinks appeared on the table, Golden of course. They were likely made of real gold, instead of being gold plated, because that’s how the Norse rolled.
As Odin sipped on his drink, he looked at him, silence reigning in the booth. He spotted Azazel, the bastard, smiling at his expense. Once again, there was no amount of thousand year old ale that could help him relax while sitting in the presence of Odin the All-Father, especially at his current power levels.
It was a mistake, he realised. He had gotten overconfident. Just a few days out in the human world, seeing people be afraid and wary of even his diminished state was enough for him to throw caution to the wind for a bit and follow a Fallen Angel of all things, into a pocket dimension of unknown origin and unknown composition. He could just as easily have been trapped in an ambush right now, forced to weather Holy attacks as they wore down his form.
He might have built up a pretty high resistance to Holy Light, but he was sure that an Archangel will be able to hurt him all the same. He hadn’t yet adapted to that Holy Light crater in the Pits, the one that felt as if the Big G himself had blessed that area to never run out of Holy Light.
Just as he was cursing himself out, he felt an impact on his head, as if someone had flicked him. He looked at what was clearly a wine cork that clattered on the table in front of him, as Odin had opened a bottle of wine, clearly aiming the cork at his forehead. The sheer absurdity of the situation made his mind shut down for a moment as Odin drank straight from the bottle.
“Stop overthinking, boy. Your brain likely hasn’t fully developed yet. Don’t stress it just yet.”
He’d remained silent, his gaze on the cork in front of him, processing the absurdity of the situation in front of him. In the span of a couple of hours, he hadn’t just met Azazel, but was now sitting across from Odin, looking at the cork he’d used to snap him out of his thoughts.
The disrespect aspect didn’t even register in his mind, because of the sheer power difference between them. It was…humbling, in a different way than when he met Sirzechs. Back then, he knew that he was outclassed, but not so much that he knew he would never be able to reach that level. At the end of the day, he had the same power as Sirzechs, and if things panned out, potential to go even higher, but that’s all he had. The potential as a Super Devil of destruction.
Sure, his unique mutation gave him the power to all but warp reality in a small area, but the man in front of him could do that right now, and without much issue. Centuries of experience had likely shaped the man’s mind in a widely different way than regular supernatural beings.
Still, that did not mean he had to do nothing.
A small flex of his power, covered the entire table in his Power of Destruction. Azazel leaned away from the table, surprised but not wary, confident in the location. Odin continued chugging whatever was in the bottle, but was now eyeing him.
As expected, the runes on the table flared, because ofcourse the table also had protective runes on them. It wouldn’t do for them to break apart the moment someone with enhanced strength banged their glass on it.
The table had somehow decided that the cork resting on top of it was a part of the table and was now actively working against his Power of Destruction. He eyed the runes on the table, letting his power flow all over it as the concepts immediately became clear to him.
Magic resistance. Demonic Energy resistance. Self replenishment. Spatial void. Energy regulation. Energy absorption.
And more, all of them working in tandem to not just stop his power from destroying it but also absorbing minute amounts of it, to maybe power itself? He did not know, but that was what he could read from a surface level scan.
Looking up at Odin, he commented, “A remarkable design.”
“Well,” Odin said, in the middle of his chugging session. Was he not drinking anything, or was the liquid in the battle just that much?
“You’re not the first rowdy Devil I’ve had to host here. Though, this is the first time it has encountered your particular brand of Demonic Energy, so please, by all means, entertain me.”
Huh. Either he is talking about the Power of Destruction in particular, or he knows about the mutation. Either way, he was in now. No way to back out now, not with the current company. Had it been anyone else, he wouldn’t have even entertained this, but they were not just anyone. He felt this innate urge to show them that he was not some run of the mill Devil, flexing his power that he got because of his bloodline. He himself felt surprised at the emotion and had to take a moment to check if something had been discreetly cast on him, to lower his impulses or something.
He was sure that he wasn’t that drunk yet, he hoped. It felt good in a way he had never felt before, so he didn’t bother sobering himself up. After all, he only had, what? A Couple of glasses.
After making sure that he wasn’t too drunk or compromised in some way, and it was just his innate devil pride or arrogance rearing its ugly head at an opportune time, he focused his power on the two concepts that were at the forefront of the shield.
Demonic Energy resistance and Spatial Void.
He felt a surge of pride and happiness as the bottle vanished from Odin’s hand as he leaned forward, the yellow energy field flickering a bit as he simply popped the two concepts.
Was this reckless? Yes, one hundred percent, and yet, despite knowing that, he couldn’t help but show off.
Impressively, the shield still held, but he was not done. The next to do was Magic resistance, and Energy regulation, as the shield just shattered in motes of golden light. Odin’s hand shot out like lightning, his entire being tensing at the gesture, but Odin merely put his finger on the table, somehow holding onto the cascading shield that was spreading to the rest of the table.
Odin, however, was not looking at him or his own feat of Rune mastery. He was looking, or rather, glaring at Azazel, who was looking at the table with a pale face, his eyes wide, drink forgotten, “You bring me quite the interesting people, Governor General.”
Uh-oh.
Azazel was in trouble
Also, who else had Azazel brought here?
Just then, his gaze landed on the cork, just sitting innocently on the table, and as Azazel opened his mouth, likely to respond that he had no idea the Devil kid he picked up off the streets of France was a conceptual Destructor, he flicked his finger, sending a small bullet of Power of Destruction, and destroyed the cork.
Served it right.
A/N - A drunk Mag being the only way he loosened enough to display something. Otherwise, even here, he would have been passive, took the talking down to treatment and left, with only the Botany request being the only thing of note in this meeting.Hope you guys like it! Tell me in the comments!
P.S. - Guess the other interesting person Azazel brought to the same club.