Ashen Dragon

[Dunno.]

Chapter 1: Chosen Undead.

The first page was flipped open, and a story began—one that spiraled into madness, much like Issei Hyoudou's fervered fantasies about womens' breasts.

He awoke in a dark, damp cell, clad in a knight's ensemble he didn't remember putting on, its surface marred with dents and deep scratches. He tried to steady his breath, but before he could gather his thoughts, a rancid stench invaded his senses, causing him to gag and cough violently. It was the putrid odor of decaying flesh, as if a hundred corpses had been left to rot in the very spot where he now lay sprawled.

Panic rising, Issei scrambled to his feet, his mind racing as he tried to make sense of his surroundings. He tugged at the iron bars of his cell, but they remained steadfast, mocking his efforts. The stone walls surrounding him were cold and unyielding, and though a sliver of sunlight filtered through an open ceiling far above, it might as well have been out of reach. Exhausted, Issei slumped down in a corner of the cell, eyes misting over from unshed tears, his mind numbing to the relentless passage of time.

Then, on a night that felt no different from any other, a heavy thud echoed through the cell. A corpse had fallen from the heavens, the sound of its landing stirring Issei from his torpor. As he cautiously approached, he noticed a glint of metal in the corpse's hand—a key. A lifeline. Heart pounding, he seized it and freed himself from his confines. It wasn't long before he found a knight—half-dead, slumped against a mound of rubble. To Issei's shock, it was the very knight whose body had delivered his salvation.

The knight spoke of a prophecy: "Thou who art Undead, art chosen… In thine exodus from the Undead Asylum, maketh pilgrimage to the land of Ancient Lords. When thou ringeth the Bell of Awakening, the fate of the Undead thou shalt know…"

Delegating his mission to Issei, he pressed an Estus Flask into Issei's trembling hands—a parting gift to aid him in his journey. With grim resolve, Issei left the dying knight behind and navigated the treacherous halls until he found the asylum's exit. But his relief was short-lived, halted by the presence of the Asylum Demon.

Terror seized Issei as the demon charged. His feet moved before his mind could catch up, and he sprinted in a desperate bid for survival. But the beast was relentless, and with a single blow, it sent Issei crashing across the stone floor. Pain exploded through his body as he lay broken, blood pooling beneath him, the metallic scent mingling with the ever-present stench of decay. Despair weighed heavily on his soul, snuffing out the last flicker of hope. With one final swing, the demon ended his life, crushing him beneath its monstrous strength.

But death was not the end. Issei awoke beside a flickering bonfire, his wounds miraculously healed, yet the memory of his demise still fresh in his mind. It was then that he understood his new, cursed existence. He was Undead—forever trapped in a cycle of death and rebirth.

Driven by a burning need for vengeance, Issei confronted the Asylum Demon once more, and again, he met his end. But each death only hardened his resolve, and he learned from his failures. Using the environment to his advantage, the demon finally fell by his hand, its monstrous body collapsing with a thunderous crash.

Unbound by the asylum's walls, Issei emerged into the outside world. A giant raven swooped down, its talons grasping him tightly as it carried him to the Firelink Shrine, a place of relative peace. There, he began his pilgrimage, accepting his fate as the Chosen Undead.

When Issei finally rang the Bells of Awakening, he discovered that his journey was far from over. He paved a pathway to Anor Londo, the city of the gods, where he faced his greatest challenge yet: Dragon Slayer Ornstein and Executioner Smough. The two knights were titans of battle, and Issei found himself outmatched at every turn. Their combined strength and skill overwhelmed him, and he was left battered and broken on a bed of rubble, the weight of his failures crushing him.

What chance did a mere human have against beings who had slain dragons the size of mountains? Nothing—that's what. As he lay there, defeated and hopeless, a voice that promised power echoed in his mind, a chance to turn the tide. Desperate and with nothing left to lose, Issei accepted the offer, and the Boosted Gear awakened on his arm, a weapon which housed the soul of a mighty dragon—Y Ddraig Goch.

With newfound strength and confidence, Issei returned to face Ornstein and Smough, besting them after much struggle. With the path clear, he entered the grand chamber beyond and was met with the sight of Gwynevere, the Princess of Sunlight.

She lay atop an enormous bed, her form illuminated by the golden light streaming through the stained glass windows, her provocative attire leaving little to the imagination. Issei's mind, clouded with exhaustion and elation, succumbed to his baser instincts. In a delirious fit of breast-obsessed lunacy, he lunged forward, arms outstretched, aiming for her divine bosom. But as he made contact, her figure dissolved into motes of light, revealing the truth.

The illusion shattered, and Anor Londo's true state was revealed—a desolate city bathed in eternal twilight. The one behind the deception was none other than Dark Sun Gwyndolin, the last living deity. Yet, instead of becoming bitter enemies, the great illusionist was befriended by the young man. With his dreams shattered like fragile glass, he teetered on the brink of hollowing, but Gwyndolin's presence provided a strange comfort.

The god, initially unsure of how to deal with the despondent Undead, eventually got Issei back to shape and sent him on his way to satiate the Lord Vessel. Before parting ways, Gwyndolin bestowed the young warrior a talisman as a token of their friendship, granting him the ability to perform miracles.

With his trusty partner, Ddraig, by his side, the Chosen Undead continued his journey, facing foes of unimaginable power. From humans who've lost themselves, demonic abominations spawned from Izalith's failure to recreate the First Flame, to literal deities who'd once ruled over the lands. His skills in the art of combat was laughable at first, needing only a feable Hollowed Undead to send him to the nearest Bonfire. Yet he remained ever determined and eventually grew adept at using a myriad of weaponry.

After countless trials, Issei reached the Kiln of the First Flame, a desolate wasteland blanketed in ash. He tranformed from a hapless student who could not even flee properly, to becoming one of the most finest warriors in Lodran in the span of… well, he didn't know. Even Ddraig had long since stopped counting the days, months, or years.

The world's timeline was a convoluted mess, never flowing correctly; in one moment he'll be minding his own business, and in the next he's somehow centuries in the past, culling the spread of the Abyss. Despite it all, Issei had fulfilled his role as the Chosen Undead.

Or had he?

Throughout his journey, he'd come to know the truth of the prophecy. It was nothing more than a farce, a desperate ploy by Gwyn, Lord of Sunlight, to prolong the rule of gods and prevent the Dark Soul from ever manifesting in full. Gwyndolin, his first and perhaps only friend, had played a part in this grand lie. Yet, was Gwyndolin truly deceitful, or merely another pawn in his father's scheme to cling to power? The Chosen Undead couldn't say for certain.

Was he angry? If he were honest with himself, no—he felt nothing. The capacity for hatred had long since drained from him, leaving behind only a hollow acceptance of his fate. If everything he had fought for was based on a falsehood, so be it. The battles, the deaths—none of it mattered anymore.

He stood before the fading First Flame, its dying embers casting a weak, flickering glow that danced across his visor. Issei gazed at it in silence, his thoughts a tumultuous sea of uncertainty. Should he rekindle it or allow Dark to take over? The question wasn't whether his choice would be correct, but rather, will it even matter? The tale of the Chosen Undead was far reaching, and countless others would follow after him. His decision was merely a single thread in a vast, woven tapestry—one that would continue to unravel long after he was gone.

After what felt like an eternity of contemplation, he made up his mind.

---

"Sona, are you absolutely sure there's nothing strange going on? He hasn't been replaced by something or someone else, has he?" Rias Gremory, a curvaceous young woman with long, flowing red hair, asked her best friend while gazing out the window. The two were seated on the second floor of the school, inside the Student Council office.

"I've checked multiple times, Rias," Sona Sitri, a bespectacled girl with sharp black hair replied, her tone matter-of-fact as she continued to sift through a stack of paperwork on her desk. "He's still the same perverted Issei Hyoudou we've come to know and... tolerate."

Below them, the aforementioned young man was leaving the school grounds. His steps were calm and composed, belying the surreal journey he'd experienced in another world. He appeared unchanged, but to those attuned to the supernatural, the power he now exuded was unmistakable. It was restrained, yet even in this suppressed state, the sheer force of it sent tingles across Rias' skin.

Only a week ago did this change happen, a transformation that came out of nowhere. Issei Hyoudou had gone from a hormone-driven teenager obsessed with the opposite sex to a refined, almost gentlemanly figure who now seemed incapable of wrongdoing. He had even taken the extraordinary step of apologizing for his past behavior and making amends to those he had wronged.

The abruptness of his change left the entire school in a state of bewilderment. Those who knew him best were the most alarmed—especially his parents. Rias herself was deeply concerned because she had been keeping a close watch on him for signs of a powerful Sacred Gear—a collection of weapons forged by the Biblical God for humans to wield.

"Now, there's no need to call him that. I'm sure there's other ways to describe him," the red-head protested, pulling her sight from the window as the boy disappeared from view.

"Then what would you call him?" the black-haired girl asked, pushing the papers to the side, waiting for her companion's answer.

"Uh…" Rias pondered, tapping her lips. "Honest?" she voiced out, her tone unsure.

"So, you call a person who continuously peep into the girls' locker rooms despite repeated warnings, happily brags about his lust—rather, 'appreciation' for breasts, and having a known obsession over pornographic material as 'honest', huh?" the black-haired girl fired back, a small frown on her lips. At least Issei's perverted streak ended due to this abrupt change, small mercies she supposes.

"What? It perfectly describes him, you know? Unlike other boys, he doesn't let social norms stop him from letting his… um, likes and dislikes known by everyone. That's just how he is," she returned with a less than brilliant rebuttal.

"I think the word you're looking for is 'Sex Offender' with how much deviancy he's shown," Sona countered, her voice irrate. "He's a literal criminal, Rias. Had it not been for your suspicions about him possessing a Sacred Gear, I would've kicked him and his rotten posies out of Kuoh Academy long ago."

"Well, look at him now—feeling all powerful and stuff. His Sacred Gear had probably been woken up, which changed him. He will be a great asset to my Peerage," Rias pointed out, ignoring most of Sona's words.

A Peerage was a group of reincarnated devils, as opposed to full-blooded devils like her and Sona, that was under her command. She'd been wanting to add another one to her 'family' as she called her peerage, that being one Issei Hyoudou.

"Haah," Sona sighed at her friend's antics, not bothering to chastise her. She then pulled the topic elsewhere, "You're that desperate, aren't you? You're willing to let someone like Issei on your side just so you can escape your marriage?"

Rias Gremory, heir to the Gremory line, a Demon Pillar, was forced into an arranged marriage with by her father from a young age, and she's been trying all she could to break it. Her final straw was a duel between her peerage and her fiance's. If she could win it, then she could demand their marriage null.

"Well… yeah. I don't wanna marry that asshole, he's an absolute creep!" The red-head wrapped her arms around herself, shivering at the idea of being betrothed to someone she didn't approve of.

"I just hope you can convince Issei to join you. If it is true that his Sacred Gear woke up a week ago, that'd be great for you," Sona gave Rias her blessings, not really optimistic of her chances of recruiting said boy with his current personality.

"If I flaunt my boobs in front him, do you think he'd accept right away? Maybe I'll even let him touch it as a reward," the Gremory speculated, pressing her bountiful pairs together with her arms.

Hearing the statement, Sona almost choked on her breath. "Are you trying to leave your marriage so you can spend nights with multiple men or something? I didn't think of you like that, Rias. As you friend, I am greatly disappointed in you. We're not demons who lavish in sin, but devils with standards, you know?"

There was a difference between demons and devils; the former being your stereotypical demonic entity who embodies evil and ate souls for breakfast, while the latter were the descendants of said demons who've long shed these sinful traits, taking a more peaceful disposition. Make no mistake, however, just because modern devils are more kind than their predecessors doesn't mean they are weaker in any capacity.

"What—no! I didn't mean it like that!" Rias exclaimed, her face flushing from embarrassment. "It was just a question! Since he likes it so much, maybe I can entice him with it!"

"What I'm hearing is that you're selling your body to get a man to your side. Shame on you, Rias. Your brother would want to have a word with you if he hears of this," the bespectacled girl responded in an amused tone, picking on the blushing girl.

"Sona!" With a head full of steam, the red-head sprung from her seat, vaulting over the table that separated them in one smooth motion to tackle her friend. Their scuffle quickly spiraled into a vicious kitten fight, knocking various things over during their mighty battle.

END.​

Author's notes: A not-so serious snippet that I brewed up in 3am while my mind slowly deteriorated.