Two days later.

The upper half of an abandoned church could be vaguely seen under the night sky. Although the city lights couldn’t reach it, the full moon was able to illuminate the church’s rooftop spire. Even so, the surrounding area was eerily silent. There was an unsettling atmosphere, that something—or someone—had been privately surveilling the area.

A soft fluttering of wings followed by a light thud quickly broke the uncanny silence. A beautiful young lady with violet eyes sat on the edge of the rooftop, her delicate legs dangling from the ceiling.

Raynare held up three silver crystals in her palm. As the chilling night breeze swept through her hair, she recalled an old saying from her previous life.

‘The more you know, the more you realize you don’t know.’

After multiple human experiments, Raynare had defined four ways to classify a soul. Yet this had only escalated a myriad of new questions.

Namely, the four soul classifications were: the complete soul, main soul, soul fragment, and split soul.

A complete soul was the soul that a human was born with. It would instantly dissipate after the death of its physical body. If a complete soul was torn into two, the larger portion would become the main soul, and the smaller portion would become the soul fragment.

The main soul recursively had the same properties as its complete soul, but its strength would get weaker every time it was torn.

On the other hand, soul fragments did not need a physical body to survive. Rather, they would passively deteriorate over time.

Lastly was the split soul. When a soul fragment had taken control of another body, it would become a split soul. However, these split souls held the drawbacks of both the main soul and soul fragments: instant dissipation and passive deterioration.

‘My soul is deteriorating faster than I expected,’ Raynare sighed in her heart.

She lifted one of the silver crystals with her forefinger and thumb. It abruptly changed color, giving off a dark radiance as a mysterious energy flowed from the crystal into her palm.

‘I can’t afford to consume soul fragments like this. My main soul won’t be able to recover them when we reunify.’

‘Hopefully, I won’t need to expend another one.’

While she was glancing at the other two crystals, her head suddenly perched up.

‘A rat?’

Raynare briskly put away her soul fragments, and then instantly dispersed an exhaustive amount of dark energy into all directions.

Rustle, rustle, rustle.

Quick and hushed footsteps sounded through the rough grass. A hooded male figure was swiftly moving away from the church grounds.

“Huff, huff, huff!” The man had begun to pant as he weaved through the surrounding trees. He displayed an anxious expression with moist eyes and a wrinkled forehead.

For the next ten minutes, he occasionally snapped his head back to see if anyone was on his trail. When the hooded man deduced that he was safe, he came to a stop in front of a large tree.

However, before he could take a moment to rest, a bright pink spear suddenly launched itself out of nowhere. It had cleanly cut through the air, skewering the man’s right arm to the tree. The aftershock had also blown his hood off, revealing a polished, bald head.

The bald man instantly let out a panicked yelp while frantically glancing from side to side. As he was trying to spot his attacker, a second pink spear soon followed, pinning his remaining elbow to the tree.

“Augh!” The man growled in frustration. He gritted his teeth in pain, and he attempted to squirm around. Yet, this only further aggravated his injuries.

Flap, flap, flap.

The sound of wingbeats quickly diverted his attention. As the bald man glanced upward, he noticed two terrifying violet eyes in the air. He shuddered as the image of a certain cold-blooded Fallen Angel came to mind.

“Damn it, I should have known.” He muttered to himself, “No matter what, I’d be found out sooner or later. The difference between Fallen Angels and humans is like the heaven and the earth.”

The bald man lowered his head, knowing he had no way out. Teardrops formed at the corner of his eyes as he grimly admitted in a low voice. “I’ll confess. A week ago, I had accepted a bribe to leak our location and schedule.”

The bald man raised his head back up and uttered, “I had never originally planned to betray you. I did it all for my family.”

He paused for a few seconds before continuing his monologue with a bittersweet smile.

“I’ll tell you the bribe’s location, as long as you can pass a portion of it to my eldest daughter.”

By this time, Raynare had already landed on the soft grass. She loosely held her arm out, index finger facing upward.

A dark sphere had begun to obscure the man’s vision. Although he didn’t know what was happening, he had a portentous feeling that he had been rejected.

“Wait, Lady Raynare, please reconsider my offer!” The man profusely tried to appeal, “I’ll tell you everything I know!”

Unfortunately, he wasn’t gifted with a response. One last time, as the wind whipped through his wounds, he sighed and then hoarsely uttered a semblance of words.

“Please… just don’t hurt my wife and kids. That’s all I ask.”

However, his vision instantly spiraled into complete darkness. He was rejected again, this time by the utter silence of death.

. . . . .

The morning sun’s relaxing rays signaled the beginning of a new day, or rather the commencement of a new school year.

Chekhov was standing on Kuoh Academy’s upper pavilion, watching a small, but raucous crowd of students enter through the front gate. He leaned onto the luxurious marble railing, sending out a very light stream of dark energy into the noisy crowd.

“A new school year!” A young man in the crowd pumped his fist in the air. “It’s time to study hard, get good grades, and graduate with a perfect GPA!”

“For sure!” A female student with glasses held a sly grin, “This year, we’ll give it all we got!”

‘Quite a bit of samples from which I can harvest energy. I could start up my “soul farm” with those two.’

In this world, Chekhov’s first 10,000 years of lifespan wasn’t difficult to acquire. He also wasn’t under any pressure to rapidly increase his strength. Thus, he had deemed that there was no reason to take chaotic risks for high rewards. He instead intended to passively farm while gradually manipulating future events.

‘The only inconvenience is that I’ll have to be within school grounds for Ueda’s Teleportation Array to continuously siphon me the energy. Still, the biggest hidden variable in my plans is that unknown expert.’

When Chekhov thought of the hidden expert, Nobuo's face came into mind. He had already confirmed that Nobuo had no suspicious relations, but something about him felt different.

‘Even so, if there is some other old monster on my trail, I’ll be forced to abandon this farming strategy. It will put me under constant pressure to proactively increase my strength.’

Suddenly, the crowd’s commotion quietened down. A beautiful girl with long, crimson hair had stepped into Kuoh Academy’s enclosure. Many students were swiftly moving to the side while gossiping in adoration and envy.

“So beautiful! Who is she?”

“What! You must be a fool for not knowing!” A low voice snapped back, “She’s Rias Gremory, one of the richest and prettiest girls of Kuoh Academy.”

“Hmph, you all are just toads lusting after swan meat,” a young man with brown hair arrogantly remarked with a mocking sneer.

The young lady’s shoulder cape fluttered in the wind as she aristocratically passed through the crowd. When she approached the entrance fountain, she halted her movements. She strangely tilted her head upward, peering at a certain young man on the upper pavilion. When their eyes interlocked, Rias lifted her eyebrows, momentarily in surprise.

Chekhov kept his head in place, staring indifferently into her cyan-blue eyes. He was secretly approximating their distance using simple trigonometry.

‘She can sense my presence from over 125 meters without using magic. So, this is the basic perception ability of a high-class Devil?’

Rias curved her pink lips into a faint grin, and then she continued on her way as if nothing had happened. After she had entered the main building, the talks about her gradually started to die down.

“I wish I was as pretty as her,” a female student sighed with eyes of jealousy.

Chekhov ignored the impractical gossip and focused on the front gate. He had been waiting for a particular Sacred Gear wielder to show up.

‘Issei’s Longinus, Boosted Gear, has a portion of Ddraig’s soul residing within it. Although I can’t sense any Sacred Gear auras, I may be able to get a reading from Ddraig.’

The protagonist of the original timeline, Issei Hyoudou, wielded a God Killer Sacred Gear that was categorized as one of the 13 Longinus.

This reminded him about the results from the human experiment. When he had devoured the Sacred Gear wielder, he felt a harsh obstruction as his sphere compressed the man’s soul.

Thus, Chekhov made a prediction. ‘At the very least, my strength needs to reach the high-class realm before I can devour a Longinus.’

He waited for five minutes, but there was no sign of Issei. By this time, a smooth and friendly voice sounded from behind.

“Hey there, I haven’t seen you before. Is this your first time at Kuoh Academy?”

Chekhov turned around, facing a blond, male student. He had a handsome face with deep, blue eyes.

‘Kiba Yuuto, a peak low-class Devil bestowed with a Knight Piece. They sent him to acquaint me?’

“You look new here,” the blond young man continued, “I just wanted to make sure everything was going alright.”

Chekhov embarrassedly smiled as he replied, “Yeah, I just switched high schools this year, so I don’t have many friends yet.”

“That’s perfectly normal. You’ll be able to make friends fast. Above all, the students here are very civilized and polite.”

Kiba quickly glanced at his phone. “By the way, we still have 20 minutes before class starts. If you want, I can show you around.”

“Thank you!” Chekhov’s eyes lit up, “I had visited Kuoh Academy on Friday, but this place was too big.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Kiba lightly chucked as he walked toward the pavilion doors, "you can follow me."

Chekhov hastily tagged along, unaware of the magical formation that was secretly active beneath him.

. . . . .

Rias leisurely sat at her desk, viewing a giant holographic projection screen. She pinched the air with her two fingers, causing the projection screen to zoom on Chekhov’s face.

She rested her chin on her hand as she calmly spoke, “Well, Akeno. What do you think of him?”

"Ara ara," Akeno chaffed, "he does have a cute smile. He's kind of like Kiba, but more coltish.”

Her lips curved into a flirtatious grin, “I wouldn’t mind if you let me mess with him for a while.”

“You don’t need to go that far, Akeno.” Rias replied with a confident look, “We’ll gradually build up a strong relationship with him. Tomorrow, Kiba will invite him to the club.”

“Oh, also.” Rias turned to her right, facing a petite white-haired girl. All this while, the girl had been emotionlessly chowing down on a fried fish kebab held by a skewer.

“What about you, Koneko?” Rias asked.

Koneko swallowed her food and responded in a flat voice. “…I’ve already met him.”

Rias slightly raised her eyebrows and opened her lips in curiosity. “Can you please elaborate?”

“…He went to the Cooking Club meeting.”

She explained in short sentences, without a change in her expression or tone.

“…Owns a very powerful Sacred Gear.”

“…Mature, but also a bit impish.”

“…Makes good food.”

“…”

“Cooking Club?” Rias questioned with a quizzical smile, “Does he know anyone there?”

“…Yes, he is on good terms with Miwa Tsuchiya, an ordinary female student.”

Rias tilted her head down as she muttered, “Interesting… Chekhov, it’s rare to find someone like you these days.”

Using her forefinger and thumb, she lifted a white bishop piece off her table. She gracefully twirled it between her fingers, then set it onto a partially filled chessboard.

“I’ll turn you into my perfect bishop.”

. . . . .

A dark-haired young man was sitting by himself at the back of a classroom. It was the end of the last school period; many students had already packed up their bags, eager to be dismissed by the bell.

“Hey, Chekhov,” a hopeful feminine voice sounded, “do you have any plans after school?”

Chekhov noticed two female students standing in front of his desk.

‘Tsk. Here comes the most tiresome part of the school day.’ Chekhov inwardly mused, ‘Starting up a farm is far more tedious than it sounds.’

“Sorry, this morning I had promised my father,” Chekhov apologized with a regretful expression, “that I’d be home by 3:00.”

“Aw, don’t be like that,” the other girl coerced, “we’re just going to watch a movie together.”

Chekhov’s inner stare was ice-cold. From today’s experience, he had long learnt that it was difficult to shrug off stubborn and pesky insects while maintaining his guise.

‘If only these two yellow-skinned beetles were as obedient as Miwa. Maybe, I can use her as a shield.’

“Ah, Chekhov, there you are,” a male voice sounded across the classroom. “I knew you wouldn’t have any trouble making friends.”

Kiba was standing by the door frame with a light smile. Chekhov’s eyes lit up as he turned to face him.

“Yeah, but my first day was still a bit rough,” Chekhov awkwardly smiled while rubbing the back of his head.

All of a sudden, a harsh bell reverberated through the Kuoh Academy halls, marking the end of the school day. Several waves of students were already crowding the halls, making their way to the front gate.

“Anyway, we never got to finish the school tour this morning,” Kiba politely asked, “would you like to come with me?”

Before the two young women had a chance to say anything, Chekhov hastily rushed past them and jumped out into the hallway.

“For sure, Kiba. That’d be great.” Chekhov answered with a friendly smile.

Kiba could read between the lines, understanding that Chekhov wanted to immediately leave. He followed suit with a brief and simple nod.

For the next five minutes, they both leisurely chatted while strolling around the school grounds. When Chekhov subtly changed the topic to the Opening Extravaganza, Kiba ended up politely declining his offer.

“Oh, sorry Chekhov. I can’t guarantee that I’ll be free for the Opening Extravaganza on Friday.”

“It’s alright. If you have time, please do stop by,” Chekhov replied in a hurry, “anyway, I should really get home now.”

“Well, it was nice meeting you today.” Kiba firmly held his hand out.

Chekhov accepted his handshake with a pleasant smile. “Thanks for all the help.”

After saying their goodbyes, the two young men parted their separate ways.

As Chekhov confirmed that he was alone, his facial muscles relaxed into their usual state. His expression displayed an icy stare as he was running over the day’s events.

‘The construction of my soul farm is now underway. However, I’ve already shared my lunch twice. It’ll be too conspicuous if I keep continuing like this.’

He decided to push the matters of his soul farm aside, making room for a more urgent issue.

Throughout the entirety of the school day, Chekhov had been pondering over the capabilities of his Sacred Gear. At first, he had surmised that his Sacred Gear was only mediocre, but recent clues were telling him that he had previously made an oversight.

A quote from Chekhov’s previous life came to mind. ‘Truth will ultimately prevail where pains is taken to bring it to light.’

Without any further interruptions, he punctually arrived home and shut himself in his room.

. . . . .

A few hours later.

‘This proclaimed “Otherworldly” Sacred Gear isn’t treating me politely. To the naked eye, it just looks like a recolored version of the Twilight Healing Sacred Gear.’

Chekhov was silently seated at his desk, tinkering with a golden ring on his finger.

‘All it can do is excavate a soul fragment out of my body.’ He sighed in his heart, ‘This ring seemingly has no other functions.’

He decided to close his eyes and enter a state of complete calmness. Chekhov let go of his rebounding thoughts, focusing on the rise and fall of the ocean tides.

To ancient sophists, the repetitive cycle of tides had been highly perplexing. Many had been drawn to the theory of water spirits or underground caverns. Yet within the due course of time, it was revealed that the Earth had never caused the tides. Rather, tides were the result of otherworldly forces: the gravitational pulls from the Moon and Sun.

‘Maybe I’m envisioning this the wrong way. Like the ancient sophists, I’m too focused on what is directly in front of me. I need to try thinking outside the box.’

Calmly opening his eyes, Chekhov raised his ring to the evening sun’s golden-red rays.

‘A soul should not be a static object in the human brain. It is intangible, in some ways it is unrestricted by the physical world.’

‘What if, a soul was situated in its own separate domain?’

At this instant, the sparkling black diamond embedded on the ring’s bridge began to glow. It was emitting a faint, dark radiance.

‘If this is true, my Sacred Gear can form a link between an unknown domain and the physical world. What happens when I try to invert this process?’

A dark black light suddenly expelled out of the ring. It haphazardly spread in all directions, engulfing Chekhov and his surroundings in a hazy mess.

As the black light began to fade, Chekhov’s surroundings had drastically changed. No longer was he situated in the cozy, modern-style interior of his room. Conversely, he stood on a rough ground made of compact, gray soil stretching out as far as the eye could see. He seemed to be in a desolate wasteland, with not even a single soul in sight.

‘Is this an old memory?’

Chekhov stood in place, calmly assessing his situation. ‘No, I can freely move. And this place seems familiar.’

He methodically skimmed through his cabinet of memories, hoping to find a clue somewhere. Suddenly, Chekhov recalled the ghostly red face of a particular apparition.

‘I had once unknowingly entered this place before.’

Better yet, this was the very place where he had awakened his Sacred Gear.

‘This is… my soul’s domain?’