Path to Camel 2
Soren Gremory
Until Rias returned and her birthday party began in earnest, I had the run of the estate. That was just as well. I had plans that couldn’t be put off, not even for my darling little sister.
I released my wings, more like living shadows than a bat’s wings, and galloped through the air. Surtr the Second, my brother’s Rook, offered to spar with me for a bit. Given how busy the members of his peerage could be, I didn’t want to waste a single second.
Surtr was waiting for me in a mountainous section of our territory. There was nothing here but craggy cliffs, perfect for the type of training we preferred.
I spotted him lounging on a flat-ish rock. He was a deeply tanned, shirtless man with a wild mane of orange-red hair. In his hand was a clay jug that could fit a grown man, no doubt filled with booze. He looked like he could slap a dragon king and expect to survive the encounter. Because he could. He wasn’t called the Ultimate Rook for nothing.
The Norse gods tried to clone Surtr and he was the result. He was so absurdly powerful that even my brother, Lucifer, had to use a mutated rook to reincarnate him. That was the kind of strength even the Asgardians had to be wary of. And this man was my master, my teacher in the fine art of kickassery.
So, I greeted him in the only way I’d been taught.
I built up as much momentum as I could. Demonic power flared in front of me, forming a crimson shell reminiscent of fresh blood. Then, I charged him from above with as much force as I could muster.
I was seventeen, about as old as Rias would be by canon start. And unlike my kid sis, I hadn’t been idle. I trained my bloodline magic until it was effectively Path to Victory. I mastered telekinesis to the point that I could shuffle a deck of cards like the best card sharks in Macau.
And, most of all, I worked out. I spent a great deal of time honing both my body and magic. Though I didn’t have any fancy techniques or epic finishing moves, I could proudly say that I’d not squandered the time I had.
I crashed down like a vermillion meteor. For a split second, I thought I saw the red of my magic burn a brilliant white. My opening strike had enough force behind it to shatter the bulk of a mountain.
And yet, when the smoke cleared, my master palmed my skull in one, meaty hand. He took a big swig of his jug and smirked. He tossed me aside and I skidded to a stop on the plateau.
The real kicker wasn’t that he stopped me. It was that he’d reinforced the entire earth below. I’d not so much as loosed a single pebble down the cliffside. The smoke had been from the violent dispersal of my demonic energy, nothing else.
“Heh, not bad, Soren,” he rumbled. His voice sounded like the crashing of a rock slide. “Not good, but not bad.”
“You’re a monster, Surtr,” I grumbled, “a fucking monster.”
“Or maybe you’re just weak, little red.”
“You can’t call me that anymore. Rias is little red now, remember? The peerage agreed.”
“Nah, you’re still little red. The princess is littler red. The boss’ brat is littlest red. See? Perfect,” he said, referring to my nephew, Milicas Gremory.
I sighed but didn’t bother arguing further. This was just how Surtr was. I’d tried calling him “master” or “sensei” before, like how Souji Okita, Sirzechs’ knight, preferred, but Surtr hated anything resembling formality. He actively ignored the “stuffy bullshit” us high-class devils got up to and only showed up when Sirzechs needed someone to go knock heads together.
That was probably why we got along, honestly. Though it was true that I needed my camel form to best utilize the Seeker of the Lost, I couldn’t deny that being the eccentric bastard who ran around as a camel helped keep the ambitious fools off my back. It was one of the reasons I didn’t have a marriage contract hanging over my head.
I built up my strength and charged once more. No fancy footwork or spells, just a battering ram made of demonic energy and physical reinforcement. This was how I trained, not because I couldn’t think of anything better to learn, but because I was desperately seeking something that would make me stronger.
Surtr slapped me aside again with a casual backhand, sending me tumbling like a tennis ball. And yet, I saw it again. For a moment, there was a spark of white, proof that my efforts had not been in vain.
“Hoh? You did it twice in a row now,” the Norse fire giant said. “Not bad, kid. What’d you call this? The Path to Learning Touki Efficiently?’”
“Yeah. Turns out, there are no shortcuts for that,” I replied. I stood once more. Touki, literally “fighting spirit,” was this world’s equivalent to haki from One Piece or ki from Dragon Ball, one of the many forms of energy that supernatural entities could master in this kitchen sink setting. “There’s nothing for it except to fight someone absurdly strong. And keep fighting them until my body adapts.”
“I could’ve told you that, no need for your fancy bloodline. Strength is strength, Soren. There’s nothing complicated about it, and no way to cheat your way through. If you want to learn touki, you gotta work for it.”
“I hear you. But there are ways to streamline the process.”
“Good, come on, then. You’ve almost got it. Now, it’s about pushing your life force to the surface and maintaining that state all the time, not just the moment you clash.”
“I’m strong enough to move on to the next stage now. At least, that’s what Seeker tells me.”
Surtr looked at me with a raised brow. “There’s a next stage? Kid, I told you, there are no fancy tricks to this.”
“I know. The next stage is about breaking down my body more with hellish training until I instinctively manifest touki to keep myself from dying,” I told him. “My body is finally sturdy enough to do that kind of thing. It’ll suck, but I can handle it now and it’s the fastest way to push myself past the threshold.”
“Alright, let’s see it then.”
I took a deep breath to fortify my spirit for the trials ahead. Then, I did the unthinkable.
I reached out with my telekinesis, and crushed. The clay jug Surtr had been drinking from shattered into a million pieces. Its precious contents, mead today by the looks of it, spilled all over the plateau.
I knew how much he loved his booze. Everyone knew how much he loved booze. He and Beowulf had a “booze budget” larger than the net worth of many millionaires. This was disrespect, plain and simple, the likes of which even the easygoing giant would not tolerate.
Surtr froze as he took a few precious seconds to process the audacity of my action. He looked at the puddle of wasted mead, slowly seeping into the soil.
Then, the ambient temperature spiked as the flames of Muspelheim shrouded him in an orange aura. His eyes, now a smoldering crimson, pinned me in place. He began to grow, not to his full height, but until he towered over most castle walls nonetheless. This was a man who could bring gods to their knees.
I could proudly say that I stood on the line between high and ultimate-class. It was quite a feat for someone my age, especially considering that I didn’t have an offensive family trait to rely on. I probably wouldn’t embarrass myself too much even should I duel an actual ultimate-class devil.
And yet, there were ultimate-class devils, and then there were ultimate-class devils. Sutr the Second, really, the entirety of Sirzechs’ peerage, stood firmly in the latter camp.
He wouldn’t kill me; I was Sirzechs’ little brother. I knew that, which was the only reason I dared provoke him like this.
And, since he knew that I knew that, he was feeling extra vindictive. He probably even knew that Seeker of the Lost had taken his annoyance into account, which would, again, only make him even more annoyed.
“Oh, I see,” he smiled. It was a cruel, vicious grin that promised untold agony. “Welcome to the next stage, Soren.”
X
“Are you proud of yourself?” Grayfia asked with a disapproving frown. Right now, she wasn’t “maid Grayfia;” she was “Strongest Queen Grayfia,” Queen of Lucifer and legendary veteran of the Underworld Civil War.
“Ehehe… Are you talking to me or him, big sis?” Surtr asked, rubbing the back of his head sheepishly. He had me slung over one shoulder and had stomped over to the estate in a handful of massive leaps.
Hoarfrost formed on his beard as Grayfia made her displeasure known. “Both of you. What do you have to say for yourselves?”
“Uh… He asked for it. Literally.”
“Surtr…”
“He broke my jug and spilled all my mead! I liked that jug!” Surtr whined like a petulant child. He towered over her by an easy six feet, but we all knew she could kick his ass almost as easily as he’d kicked mine.
The white-haired maid pinched the bridge of her nose. She turned to me. I raised a hoof in greeting. “And you, Soren?”
What could I say? I barely had enough strength to keep my eyes open. “I hate my power sometimes…”
“Was this really the most efficient way to train?”
A flicker of white coated my snout before it evaporated like morning mist. I was way too tired for even that much, but my success was evident to see. “I mean… kinda, yeah…”
Her eyes widened. I saw a flicker of a smile. “I suppose congratulations are in order. Nonetheless, you will not miss your sister’s birthday dinner. She’d be crushed.”
“I know. I won’t,” I promised. “Just… Just let me grab a quick nap…”
“Very well. She should be back after lunch in Lilith. I can make excuses for you until three in the afternoon. After that, I suspect she and young Sona will find you whether you like it or not.”
“Thanks, sis, you’re the best.”
So saying, I promptly passed out.
On the plus side, mission accomplished: I now had touki.
X
I awoke once more to my sister jumping on my back. Except this time, I had the strength of a wet spaghetti noodle. I groaned in pain and opened my eyes. Sure enough, the birthday girl and her best friend greeted me, one far happier than the other.
“Rias, what do you have against sleep? Don’t you know even sleeping dogs are left alone?” I complained. I was in my favorite bed of flowers, just a quick walk from the chateau.
“You always say that. Stop sleeping and play with me,” Rias demanded with all the authority a seven year old girl could muster. “I bet you went right back to sleep as soon as we left.”
“I didn’t. Your big brother worked hard today, okay?”
“Hmph, liar. Grayfia said you just horsed around with Surtr all day.”
“Lies and slander. I cameled around with Surtr all day,” I shot back. I rose to my feet in spite of my aching body. “Hello there, So-tan~”
Sona Sitri was a black-haired girl with deep, violet eyes. Much like my sister, she was as cute as a button. Sirzechs and Serafall often argued for literal hours about who had the more adorable sibling.
She tipped her glasses up with a finger, making the lens sparkle in the sunlight. I knew for a fact that she’d made a spell specifically for the purpose. Really, and she said she wasn’t influenced by Rias’ anime.
“I still have not forgiven you for your crimes, Soren,” she said bitingly.
“What crimes?”
“You have sullied the office of the Leviathan.”
“I introduced your sister to the wonders of magical girl anime.”
“You know how impressionable my sister is,” Sona said, as if she was talking about a puppy being potty trained and not one of the Four Satans.
“She’s centuries older than us. I’m sure she can make her own decisions.”
“Are you? Are you really sure? Because it seems you have a great deal of confidence in fantasy.”
I smiled and telekinetically tousled her hair. “Welcome to the Gremory estate, Sona. And thank you for keeping Rias company while I took my nap. I know you tried to distract her for as long as possible.”
Her face pinked like a ripe peach. “I-I didn’t. I just read some manga with her.”
“Well, I’m awake now. What shall we do, Rias?”
The birthday girl flew onto my back. After the beating Surtr gave me, even that little weight felt like I was bench pressing a school bus.
No, that’d be a lie. I could bench press buses. Quite easily. This was so much worse. Still, I bore it with the quiet endurance that characterized a camel.
“Let’s go inside. We will play more board games and have snacks,” she declared.
“I would like to challenge you again, Soren,” Sona said with quiet intensity. “I will defeat you this time.”
“You know, there’s nothing wrong with being second best. Maybe you should accept that you’ll not beat me,” I told her, full well knowing she’d never cave. If my sister could be called a devil of sloth, Sona’s sin was most definitely pride.
“I will defeat you,” she repeated, as if saying it again could make her wish a reality.
“Of course.”
“And don’t you dare go easy on me. I will know.”
“I’m sure,” I said. I gently scooped her up in my telekinetic grip as well so she could be level with Rias.
X
Everyone who was going to attend Rias’ birthday party was here. The guest list was primarily made up of Gremory staff and father and Sirzechs’ peerages. Other than our extended household, we also hosted Sona, Sairaorg, and Magdaran, the latter two being Rias’ cousins from Aunt Vene’s side.
It wasn’t that Rias was unpopular; this was somewhat normal among noble heirs. Devil nobility presented their heirs to high society in a formalized banquet at the age of ten. Three years from now, she would be shown off to the other houses. I suspected that her engagement to Riser would also be made public at that time. Until then, she was free to enjoy herself.
One by one, we presented our gifts to the birthday girl. Father and Aunt Vene got her a new wardrobe that I knew for a fact cost more than most devils made in a year. Grayfia got her a set of equestrian pants, which was probably a gift for the maids as well. She kept ruining her dresses while riding my back.
And then, it was time. Sirzechs looked at me with a competitive gleam in his eyes. The Crimson Satan loved Rias more than life itself and I knew he’d stop at nothing to get her the absolute best.
Sure enough, he bragged about catering the entire party from the most luxurious bakery in Lilith with a waitlist of over six years. He gave her a handwritten guide to the Power of Destruction, a tome that their Uncle Bael would probably have killed to possess. Lastly, he also got her a full collection of Dragon Ball figurines, a full three months before they were set to publicly hit the shelves in Japan.
I found it funny that between the literal tome of unfathomable power and the collection of hard plastic, Rias would happily pick the latter. Magdaran, the only Bael with the Power of Destruction present, seethed in quiet jealousy, but such was the power of nepotism.
My dearest brother turned to me with a triumphant smirk. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. “Top that, Soren.”
“It’s not a contest dear,” Aunt Venelana said chidingly. “Really, you’re both her brothers. Can’t you two get along?”
I shrugged, my ears twitching up and down. “We get along fine, Aunt Vene. We both love Rias and agree that the greatest title of all is ‘Best Big Brother.’”
“He’s right, mother. This is a man’s romance,” Sirzechs nodded sagely. “Indeed, this is the truest battlefield. I will prove that I love Rias more.”
“Delusional, but his heart’s in the right place.”
“Why you–”
I floated my present over to her. It was a single box covered in red wrapping paper, but otherwise unadorned. “I’ve been preparing this gift for you for ages, Rias, just waiting for the perfect time to crush Sirzechs’ spirit. Happy birthday, little sister.”
“You two are silly,” Rias giggled. She tore open the box and looked confused. “You got me a box set of the Dragon Ball manga? Oh! I don’t have that sweater yet. Is that a Shenron body pillow? And a Puar pajama onesie!”
“And anime.”
“Thank you…? I already have most of these though.”
“Take one out and read it,” I said, smiling.
It was something I’d noticed early on. DxD had weird parodies of different anime as hidden easter eggs. There was the Familiar Forest and “Familiar Master Zatouji,” who was a blatant ripoff of Ash Ketchum, or as Japanese people knew him, “Satoshi.”
Dragon Ball was no different. DxD canonically had the absolute travesty that was “Drag So-Ball.” So, having been reborn so early into Japan’s animation era, I decided to preemptively rectify that mistake. I copied Akira Toriyama’s masterpiece and had it published under a pen name.
It had been a long-running part of my “Path to Mastering Precise Telekinesis.” Psychically typing out the story and drawing the characters from memory had been a hell of a challenge. Besides, I needed something to do while my body recovered from Surtr’s regular ass-kickings.
“Eeeeee!” Rias squealed. She glomped me and began to rub her face into my back. “Thankyouthankyouthankyou!”
“What’s so special about these?” Sona asked curiously. She picked up one of the manga volumes. “Did you get it signed by the original author?”
“I did. Sir Cipher is a very understanding man.”
“W-Wait… ‘Signed by Sir.. Zach… Lou Cipher…’ You’re kidding…”
“Nope.”
“I don’t get it,” Surtr said as he shoved half a chicken in his mouth, bones and all. “It’s just a name, right?”
“Say it fast, ya old drunkard,” I told him.
“SirZachLouCipher… SirZach… LouCipher… No way, boss, you wrote it?”
My brother looked at me with dawning horror in his eyes. “You didn’t…”
“Didn’t what? Write a manga, wait for it to become the most popular manga in the world, then give Rias signed copies of all relevant merch just to prove that I’m the Best Big Brother? And do it while using your name as my penname so your defeat is immortalized on Rias’ shelf for eternity?” I asked with an ear-splitting grin, made all the more prominent by my camel lips. If smugness could be weaponized, the Dragon of Dreams would only be the second most powerful entity.
“Soren, you rat bastard…”
“Sorry, I can’t hear your bitching over the sound of your dignity shattering into a million pieces.”
“Oh, you son of a–”
“Can you hear that, Grayfia? It’s your husband being a salty bitch.”
“I… No, this can’t be happening…”
“It is, Sirzechs. My ‘Path to Best Big Brother’ plan went off without a hitch. It took a while, but when the payoff is Rias’ eternal love, my penname immortalizing your shame across the entire world, and enough salt from you to fill the Dead Sea, I think it was worth it.”
“Nooooo! This isn’t over, Soren!” he cried, cradling his head melodramatically.
“Give it up, Sirzechs! I’m the Best Big Brother!”
“Lies! I-I worked so hard! There’s a Best Big Brother’s Birthday Bash Planning Committee!”
“And what do they know about Rias? Clearly, I am superior.”
“You’re both dorks,” Rias sighed, though she clutched her stuffed Shenron with an iron grip. “And you’re signing everything, Soren nii-chan!”
“Of course, Rias,” I replied indulgently. Sirzechs could suck it. He might be the Strongest Devil and Satan Lucifer, but I won where it mattered most: The title of Best Big Brother was mine.
Author’s Note
Few people know about Soren’s “evolved” bloodline trait, and all of them understand that it’s most useful when it’s unknown. This is the reason why Soren has yet to accumulate a peerage. He wants his “Gremory luck” to be visible only when he’s already ultimate-class because being born from a concubine, he knows he doesn’t have quite as much political protection as Rias.
The people who know are Zeoticus and Venelana Gremory, Sirzechs and his peerage, and the other three Satans (because Sirzechs brags to his friends about Soren too). Rias is too young. Sona isn’t a Gremory. Magdaran and Sairaorg aren’t “his” family, not that Magdaran can be trusted anyway.
Animal Fact: Camel spiders do not live on or inside camels. They are not parasites. They’re opportunistic carnivores that eat pretty much anything they can get in the desert. Yes, they do look like Satan’s anal probe. No, they’re not actually dangerous to humans.
For that matter, they’re not spiders. They are a different order of arachnid independent of both spiders and scorpions called solifuges. This can be confusing because they’re interchangeably called camel spiders, sun spiders, or wind scorpions.