DxD : Actually Satan..?

[Bonus chapter 3/6]

Leo sat in the pilot's seat, one hand on the throttle, the other lazily supporting his head, elbow propped against the side of the cockpit.

His expression?

Completely deadpan.

Because the music currently playing through the jet's enchanted audio system through no conscious input of his own and blessing his ears was eerily, unmistakably familiar.

A bubbly, high-energy, magical girl anime opening.

More specifically: it sounded exactly like the openeing from Prisma Illya 2wei.

Leo blinked. Once.

Then looked at the console.

Then back ahead.

Don't get him wrong. He liked it. The tune was catchy. Peppy.

It's just not his regular music intake.

Leo couldn't really deny Illya her choice of music. After all, he was the one who gave her the authority to control the cockpit playlist.

So, as the sugar-sweet magical girl tune continued humming in the background, he just flew in silence, deadpan as ever, while Illya cheerfully mouthed the words beside him.

Only a minute and some seconds had passed since they left Japan, flying across the globe like a bullet wrapped in divine steel. As they crossed over the Indian Ocean, Leo's eyes caught a shape below that stirred something old in his mind.

A flat, worn silhouette cutting across the blue sea.

His brain auto-filled the memory: INS Viraat.

The longest-serving aircraft carrier in the world. Commissioned in 1959.

Served more than five decades.

Decommissioned in 2017, well before the War.

It was still here.

He dipped the nose slightly, veering the jet downward in a smooth arc.

Illya jolted at the sudden movement. "Eh?! Did we reach America already?"

"No," Leo said simply.

"But I thought—"

"We're taking a detour."

He didn't elaborate.

But in his mind, a particular game about anthropomorphized warships flickered briefly.

He'd always found that concept fascinating—how legends could cling to steel and then turned into girls....

The INS Viraat certainly had its fair share of it.

"Just grabbing something," he muttered.

As they flew low, Leo remotely used the plane's integrated mana-weave manipulator to carve out a tiny sample of the ship's hull. A single piece.

No alarms were triggered. No crew disturbed. But two jets from the carrier's defense systems picked him up almost instantly and began pursuit.

Leo glanced behind him as the two aircraft approached.

"…Persistent."

Illya looked concerned. "They're following us."

"Not for long," Leo said.

He pushed the throttle. The engines responded with a deep roar.

The jet accelerated.

Mach 2.

Mach 5.

Mach 12.

And then—

Mach 18.

The pursuing jets vanished in the rearview like static on an old TV.

Impulsive? Sure.

But Leo already had a few ideas for what that scrap of steel could become. Maybe something fun. Maybe something stupid. Maybe both.

Having side projects was just part of how he operated.

They kept the brain warm.

As they crossed into American airspace, Leo reconfigured the plane's identification codes.

With a few invasive pulses and a little trickery from the onboard systems (plus the handy side-effect of the U.S. always being aware of all the F-35 movement), the jet registered as a friendly.

No alarms. No missiles. Just silence.

Illya looked out over the shifting coastline. "So… who are we looking for?"

Leo didn't answer immediately.

His gaze narrowed, thoughts focusing on the name in his memory: Specimen E.

Someone or something it was hard to define.

In another timeline, that being had managed to survive the complete erasure of humanity.

Later he didn't just represent humanity.

He became it.

A singularity had formed in his name.

Reality had folded to accommodate his narrative as the last human of Chaldeas.

And yet… despite everything, Specimen E was not human.

He was of alien origin.

And Leo wanted to know why.

If he existed in this timeline too then maybe there was something more to him than coincidence.

Illya broke the silence. "You're not going to explain anything, are you?"

Leo's expression didn't change. "No."

If Specimen E really existed in this world, Leo lnew the place where they would find it.

Area 51.

The mythical, meme-fueled home of secrets and conspiracies..

As the Devilcraft streaked across the American Southwest skies cloaked in stealth , Leo's expression remained neutral—but behind that calm facade, there was actual interest bubbling up.

He wanted to see what kind of nonsense the humans had cooked up around Specimen E.

What level of arrogance did it take to believe they could understand something like that?

Maybe they had dissected it.

Maybe they were trying to clone it.

Either way—Leo had to see it.

And when he was done there?

Well…

I guess I'll swing by the jungle, he thought.

The Spider. Was on his list to check out

And the Aztec relics—buried deep, stained in the blood of gods and tyrants.

Augh, Leo thought with a sigh. So many things to do.

He still had to finalize that decision too.

Who to invite.

He had narrowed it down to

—> one of the Beasts.

Humanity's greatest sins and contradictions given form.

But which one?

Which embodiment of chaos, indulgence, or twisted love would be useful… not just fun?

The Beast of Revelation...

The Beast of Pleasure...

The Beast of Comparison...

The Beast of Consumption…

The Beast of Love...

All tempting. All dangerous. All magnificent in the right context.

"Hmm…" Leo said aloud.

Illya, in the co-pilot seat with her legs hugging the chair, glanced at him. "Hmm what?"

Leo leaned back in the cockpit seat, one arm casually draped over the control stick, the other tapping against the side of his face.

"I was thinking about the grandness of the entrance we should make," he said, tone thoughtful, eyes narrowed slightly as the jet coasted over a vast expanse of desert skies.

Illya, curled beside him with her feet tucked under her, tilted her head. "Well, I could help… if you tell me who we're even looking for and where we're looking."

Leo gave a small nod. "Fair. His designation is Specimen E—an alien life form. Not native to Earth. And because of that, he has unfading mystery—which makes him interesting."

He glanced at her.

"He took on the concept of humanity, even though he wasn't born of it. Adapted the idea of being human so thoroughly that he became a representative of it. Even the planet seems to agree..."

Illya blinked. "…That's kind of sad. And cool."

Leo shrugged. "Depends on how you look at it. But he's currently being held in Area 51. Supposedly under study."

Illya went quiet, lips pursed, running everything through her head. After a moment, she smiled slightly.

"…I think we should make a grand entrance by bombing the surroundings and landing in the middle of it."

Leo blinked. Slowly. Then blinked again.

"That sounds like a good entrance."

Illya grinned. "Thought you'd like it. It's from the Book of Revelation, you know."

She struck a faux dramatic pose in the cramped cockpit, hand over heart, mimicking theatric narration.

"You being Satan and all… Ring of fire, angel trumpets, world ending theatrics. All very appropriate."

Leo turned his head slowly, giving her a flat, dead-eyed look.

Illya's grin faltered. "…You don't like it?"

"Don't believe everything humans write," Leo muttered.

"Eh…?" Illya tilted her head again, confused. "So there's no ring of fire?"

"There is," Leo said dryly, "but it's not a fireworks show with theme music."

"Oh."

She paused. "But we're still bombing the place, right?"

Leo smirked faintly. "Obviously. I'm not against good theatrics. Just don't quote scripture at me. That's just rude."

Illya gave a small laugh. "Okie dokie.."

---

POV: Private First Class Donnelly – Area 51 Perimeter Duty

Donnelly sat in his dusty little watchtower, boots kicked up, sunglasses on, slurping the last bit of cola from a can.

A whole-ass desert.

Hot as sin.

Quiet as death.

And nobody ever does shit.

"Nobody tryna break into Area 51. Hell, not even a damn coyote comes close no more," he talked on a phone, flipping the page of a comic book.

"Why? 'Cause everybody knows this place eat fools for breakfast and shits out denial paperwork...now cut the call before I whoop your ass with a harrasment case for calling me."

The damn conspiracy theories almost always called him expecting some kind of alien ass bullshit news from him.

He leaned back with a sigh.

"Only things I guard out here are tumbleweeds, disappointment, and the ghosts of bad government spending."

Just as he finished speaking Then—BOOM.

The sky split open like God missed His target during target practice.

A gigantic, glowing plane dropped outta the clouds like the final boss of a sci-fi RPG, glowing with some alien-techno-what-the-hell energy.

"What the—"

Donnelly sat up, squinting. "Is that a goddamn Gundam jet shootin' lasers at my base!?"

ZAP.

There went the west drone tower.

Vaporized.

Not exploded—disrespected into ash.

"MOTHERFU—"

His radio crackled to life, full of screaming and static.

As the plane shot lasers around the base.

"WE ARE UNDER ATTACK—UNIDENTIFIED HOSTILE—ENGAGE WITH FULL FO—"

Donnelly clicked it off with the calm of a man who already had one foot out the door of his career.

"…Y'all got this," he said flatly, reaching for another cola.

The jet landed.

With style.

With magic stairs made of pure fucking light.

How can you believe this shit.

Then some weird-ass teen with and a red haired woman stepped out of it.

Donnelly just… stared.

"…I ain't paid enough for this interdimensional, Saturday morning villain bullshit."

He didn't even stand up.

Didn't grab his gun.

Didn't hit the panic button.

Just cracked open another cola, leaned back in his chair, and muttered:

"Go on. ... Take the base. Take my pension while you at it. I'll be right here, watchin' y'all burn it down in real time."

"And when command asks me what I did? I'll tell 'em I bore witness...what the fuck can I even do ?"

He pulled down his shades with a glare hotter than the Nevada sun.

"…'Cause I'm too old, and way too underpaid to deal with this ass-whuppin' parade."

Then he lifted his can to the air like a toast.

"Motherfuckers be doing anything these days."

And took a sip.

---

Switching back to Leo…

The ring of flame around the base crackled like applause to a performance no one asked for.

Burning hangars, shattered watchtowers, and a very confused radar system that still insisted nothing was flying over Nevada.

Leo stood at the center of it all, eyes calmly scanning the smoldering surroundings, the F-35++ Devilcraft hissing gently behind him like a sleeping dragon.

Its landing alone had collapsed two bunkers and probably caused three international incidents.

"You were right," he muttered, adjusting his coat. "This does look like a pretty grand entrance."

The inferno cast long shadows behind him—like he was giving a TED Talk on demonic terrorism.

He turned to Illya.

"Anyway. You'll be safe on your own, obviously....But considering these guys have magi-tech and other weird prototypes, it's best you stay near me. Just in case."

Illya smiled sweetly, eyes glinting.

"Okay, daddy," she said with a wink—and then casually walked past him into a hail of bullets.

The gunfire lit up the air like fireworks on cocaine, but Illya didn't even flinch. Bullets pinged off her skin like angry mosquitoes. She was grinning.

Leo stared after her, expression frozen.

There was a very long, awkward pause in his brain.

"…What the hell," he muttered. "Am I—am I losing my edge as the one who makes people uncomfortable?"

He stared into the smoldering distance, briefly questioning the foundation of his existence.

"No… no no no no no no—NOOOOOO."

He stormed forward dramatically, coat flaring behind him, shouting at no one in particular.

"Don't you dare take this from me!"

Illya turned around mid-stride and called out, "You talk to yourself a lot when you're jealous, huh?"

Leo deadpanned. "You're banned from sass until we find Specimen E."

"Okay, papa~."

"...I should've let the grail explode."

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Power Stones and Reviews please