Humanity Undivided [DxD Great War OC-Insert / CYOA]

Chapter 1

Viktor Inox

I was dead... or so I thought. I remember walking through an endless, indistinct expanse—an infinite, featureless ground devoid of color, yet somehow reflecting everything. Everything except me, for I was the only thing that existed yet not there.

I walked for what felt like both minutes and eons, the concept of time slipping through my grasp like sand. Then, in the vast monotony, I saw it—a faint, golden glow in the distance. I moved toward it, my steps measured in centuries or seconds, until I finally reached the source: a single golden leaf clinging to the branch of a withered, lifeless tree.

As I extended my hand toward it, the leaf broke free and floated gently down, landing in my palm. The moment it touched me, everything changed. I ascended—or at least, that's the only word I can think of to describe it.

The transformation defies explanation. It was not just a change of body or mind, but of soul. I remain human, yet I am now something more—something beyond.

I can feel it, the powers coursing through me. They are not gifts bestowed by some higher being, nor are they the result of any design or plan. I know, instinctively, that I found the tree by chance—a chance so infinitesimally small that even my newly elevated mind struggles to comprehend it. And yet, it happened.

All of that is unimportant right now, however, because I find myself lying on the sandy ground. As I push myself up, grains of sand slipping through my fingers, I take in my surroundings: nothing but stony mountains, a clear, cloudless sky, and the relentless blaze of an unforgiving sun.

Squinting at the sun, my enhanced mind begins to piece things together. Fragments of trivia—half-remembered from countless hours of browsing the internet—coalesce into a startling conclusion. I calculate the sun's position in the sky, noting its angle relative to the horizon. It's early afternoon, The jagged, barren mountains around me feel strangely familiar. Combined with the stifling heat and the seasonal markers of midsummer, the answer becomes clear: I am somewhere in the Middle East.

As I start forming a mental list of what I'll need to survive in this harsh, arid environment, I note with some detachment that I am completely calm. There is no panic, no rising dread. I… can't bring myself to lose composure. My mind rejects the very idea of wasting precious focus on such a futile response. Survival demands clarity, and my thoughts are laser-focused.

Still, one fact becomes glaringly apparent: I am, proverbially, not in Kansas anymore.

Now, with a plan forming in my mind, I begin to walk, the sand shifting beneath my feet as the sun beats down relentlessly. As I move, I turn my thoughts inward, mentally probing the changes within myself. It takes only a moment for me to feel them—my new powers, each humming with potential, waiting to be explored.

The first is Agelessness. I can sense it like a constant, reassuring hum within me. My body no longer marches toward decay. Time no longer holds sway over me. I can choose how old I want to appear, though instinctively, I know it would be unwise to push those limits too far.

Then there's the curious tranquility of Ageless Perspective. The thought of loved ones aging and passing doesn't stir the agony it once would. Loss will still matter, but it will not consume me. The grief, while deep, will be fleeting, allowing me to move forward without the weight of eternity crushing my spirit.

I also feel the effects of New Me, the utter transformation of my being. My body has been reshaped, optimized according to choices I can barely recall making. I could have chosen to alter my appearance, gender, or even ethnicity—anything within the scope of human normalcy. I sense that my mind, too, has been subtly reshaped, free of prior limitations or insecurities.

My physical form has been elevated to Prime Physiology. Every muscle, bone, and organ functions at the peak of human capability. There is no illness, no imperfection left within me. I am as close to an ideal as a human body can be.

Breathing in the arid air, I notice how natural it feels despite the environment. My Iron Lung allows me to draw breath in any atmosphere, filtering out harmful particles and adapting to even the most hostile or oxygen-starved conditions. Dust, asbestos, toxins—none of it can harm me.

And finally, I feel the power of Immunity coursing through me. My immune system is a fortress, fortified against any disease or pathogen. No virus, no biohazard, no plague will ever threaten me again. I am untouchable by the microscopic dangers that once plagued humanity.

Each of these gifts feels natural, like they have always been part of me. And yet, I know they are new.

They are, however, but the basics, my mind supplies. The true powers I have gained—the ones I vaguely remember choosing—are far greater. They are the keys to reshaping not only myself but the world around me. As I delve deeper into their potential, I begin to notice how some of these powers might work together in ways that multiply their usefulness.

Hypercognition feels like the ultimate enabler. My enhanced intellect allows me to maximize the efficiency of all my abilities. For example, the power of Jumper requires precise visualization of a destination. With my flawless memory and heightened mental capacity, I can store detailed mental maps of locations I've visited or even use photographs as perfect anchors, ensuring my teleportation is accurate and efficient. Furthermore, Hypercognition lets me calculate risks, plan escape routes, and adapt on the fly—turning Jumper into not just a method of travel but a tactical advantage in any situation.

Speaking of Jumper, I can't help but smile as a memory surfaces. I remember watching a movie with the same name, where the protagonist could teleport anywhere he'd seen or been. It was one of those late-night guilty pleasures, and I'd idly dreamed of having that power. Now, it's real. The knowledge of how the fictional character used it—transporting items, escaping danger, or striking from unexpected angles—gives me ideas for how to refine my use of it in practical and creative ways.

Throne World is where the true potential for synergy begins to shine. It's not just a sanctuary or a fallback point; it's a staging ground. With my ability to transfer objects and people to and from this dimension, Throne World becomes an extension of Jumper. I can teleport into hostile territory, retrieve allies or supplies stored in my dimension, and vanish just as quickly. Moreover, my pocket dimension can be tailored for specific tasks—perhaps a verdant oasis for rest and recovery, a training ground for mastering my abilities, or a fortified stronghold for defense. Hypercognition enhances this further, allowing me to optimize and expand its design over time, turning it into a masterpiece of utility.

Then there's Occultist, the wild card among my powers. Its flexibility is staggering; it's a force that can interact with every other ability. Magic could amplify my teleportation range, enhance the regenerative properties of Throne World, or create constructs and tools that push my physical and mental limits even further. Rituals and symbols etched in my dimension's terrain could turn it into a place of immense power, while occult energy might augment my physiology to surpass even its current perfection. With Hypercognition, I can sift through the myriad possibilities of magic, experimenting safely and efficiently.

Finally, the resilience granted by Iron Lung and Immunity provides a solid foundation for the more dynamic powers. If I find myself in hostile environments—whether a battlefield, toxic wastelands, or uncharted terrain—I know I'll survive long enough to employ my other abilities. Combine this with Jumper and Throne World, and I have an almost infinite capacity for mobility and adaptability.

Together, these powers are not just individual strengths—they are pieces of a greater whole, interconnected and complementary. The sum of their parts makes me not just powerful, but nearly unstoppable. And as I walk through this desolate landscape, I can't help but feel that I've only scratched the surface of what they're capable of.

As I continue walking, the endless sand stretching before me, another realization settles in—a deeper one. Despite all these powers, despite how my mind has transformed, I am still human. At my core, I am not some detached, omnipotent being. I feel it in the weight of my footsteps, the rhythm of my heartbeat, and the steady stream of thoughts that, though sharper and more precise, still originate from the same place they always have: my humanity.

It's this humanity that shapes my growing sense of purpose. These gifts, these changes—they are not just for me. I am not meant to wander alone, indulging in my own power. My mind, almost unbidden, starts to envision possibilities—not for myself, but for what humanity could achieve. My powers are not a burden, nor are they tools of conquest. They are a responsibility.

The desire to lead comes from somewhere deep inside me, an instinct I never had before. It's not ego or a lust for control. It's something purer: the knowledge that humanity needs someone to guide it, to lift it beyond what it is now. I feel it as surely as I feel the sun on my skin. There is so much potential in humanity—potential that is squandered by division, fear, and stagnation.

Even in this harsh, barren landscape, I don't feel isolated. I see humanity in every grain of sand, every whisper of the wind. We are a species defined by our resilience, by our ability to adapt and thrive in the face of adversity. And yet, we have barely scratched the surface of what we could become. My powers, my new perspective—they aren't meant to set me apart from humanity. They're meant to help me elevate it.

The changes in my mind make this clear. My instincts, my thoughts—they now align toward this singular purpose. I see pathways to progress where before there was only noise. I see how leaders must act not as rulers, but as shepherds, guiding others to discover their own potential. And I see, most vividly, the role I am meant to play.

But even as these thoughts flow effortlessly, I am reminded of what anchors me. I am still human. My desires, my dreams, my sense of duty—they come from a place of love and hope for my people, not from any divine detachment. I care, deeply, about humanity's future. About what we are, and what we could be.

The enormity of it humbles me. To see humanity from this vantage point, to understand its fragility and its potential, fills me with both awe and determination. I no longer see myself as separate from humanity, but as an extension of it—its will, its ambition, its hope given form.

As I crest another rise in the sand, I look out at the horizon. The sun is lower now, casting long shadows across the dunes. To another person, this might seem like the edge of the world, an unrelenting wilderness. But to me, it feels like a beginning. A canvas for humanity's story to unfold, one I now feel bound to help shape.

I take a deep breath, my enhanced lungs filtering the dry air effortlessly, and I feel the weight of this realization settle comfortably on my shoulders. I am still human. And for humanity—for all that it is and all that it could be—I will lead.

After hours of walking under the relentless sun, I find myself staring at a village on the horizon. The primitive sandstone buildings, their rough, weathered forms blending with the landscape, stir a sense of familiarity in me. I have my suspicions about where—and when—I might be.

Using Occultist, I weave an illusion over myself, reshaping my form to blend in. The spell is instinctual, my new powers making the process feel as natural as breathing. I visualize the image of a middle-aged man, a native of these lands, and I feel the illusion ripple over me, seamlessly aligning with my real body. In my mind's eye, I see my new form clearly: tanned skin, dark hair, and the attire of someone accustomed to this harsh environment.

As I approach the village, I'm quickly spotted by a group of young men tending to their cattle. One of them steps forward, his voice firm and wary. "توقف! من أنت أيها الغريب؟"

The words are foreign, but only for a moment. My mind processes them at impossible speed, pulling from half-remembered scraps of knowledge and filling in the gaps with pure deduction. He's asking who I am.

I raise my hand in a disarming gesture, my voice calm and measured as I respond in Arabic, "Greetings, friend. I seek only to have a few questions answered, if you would not mind."

The young man narrows his eyes, his suspicion evident. His gaze flickers briefly to the scimitar hanging at my waist—a detail I included in my illusion for authenticity—and lingers there for a moment before he gives a slow, reluctant nod. I take it as an invitation and begin asking my questions.

Through his answers, my suspicions solidify. It seems I've arrived in the early 14th century—1303 CE, to be precise. He speaks of nearby settlements, the flow of the Tigris and Euphrates, and the state of his people. From his words, I piece together that I am in what will one day become modern-day Iraq, near the cradle of civilization itself: ancient Mesopotamia.

I feel a poetic resonance at the realization. To find myself here, in the birthplace of humanity's earliest triumphs, just as I've decided on the path I wish to carve in this new life… it feels almost like destiny.

I thank the young man for his help, offering him a small smile before casting another spell through Occultist. This one is simple but meaningful—a subtle blessing of health for him and the village. The magic flows from me effortlessly, the energy required so negligible that it feels like climbing a few steps. A trivial cost for the insights he has granted me.

As I watch him return to his work, I glance back at the village, its humble simplicity brimming with life and potential. Shaking my head I pick a direction and begin walking, heading towards the west.

Remembering the Mongol Empire's ongoing conquests in Mesopotamia, I decide to avoid this region for now. Instead, I set my sights on Egypt, particularly Cairo, which, in this period, is one of the world's great centers of commerce and culture.

By the early 14th century, Cairo had established itself as a pivotal hub in the medieval world. Its strategic position at the crossroads of major trade routes connecting the Mediterranean and the Indian Ocean made it a vital link in the global flow of goods, ideas, and cultures. The city thrived on trade in silk yarn, cotton textiles, spices, and precious gems from India, alongside olive oil, glassware, and other goods from Europe.

Cairo wasn't just an economic powerhouse; it was a melting pot of cultures and a beacon of knowledge. Scholars, merchants, and travelers from all corners of the known world passed through its bustling markets and lively streets. Here, I could gain a clearer understanding of this era, listening to the stories and wisdom of those who lived it, rather than relying on the fragmented recollections of my modern knowledge.

With this plan in mind, I turn my thoughts to the journey westward, away from the instability of Mongol-controlled Mesopotamia and toward the vibrant heart of Egypt. Cairo offers not only answers, but the chance to immerse myself in the pulse of a world on the move.

I walk through the desert for an entire week, covering nearly 1,000 kilometers on foot. My enhanced body takes to the task with ease, allowing me to run tirelessly for hours on end. Using Occultist, I augment myself further, weaving magic to revitalize my muscles and strengthen them. With this combination, I can reach speeds approaching 300 kilometers per hour with minimal strain.

Of course, I don't run at full speed for the entire journey. Besides the massive dust cloud that would trail behind me—certain to raise unwanted suspicion—I take the time to stop and visit the villages and towns along the way.

Passing through what will one day be modern-day Jordan, I spend several nights speaking with the locals. It becomes clear to me that the people of this era are deeply religious and spiritual, often speaking of supernatural beings as fact. Given the time period, I can understand their worldview. Without the scientific understanding of the modern era, the inexplicable becomes a matter of faith and divine intervention.

After my time in Jordan, I begin the second half of my journey, joining a merchant caravan as a guard. The merchants, appreciative of my abilities and protective presence, prove invaluable in their knowledge of the region and recent events. They speak of a great battle that took place between the Mongols and Al-Nasir Muhammad, the Mamluk Sultan of Egypt. This battle stirs a faint memory from my modern perspective—a fact gleaned during a random Wikipedia dive.

While the merchants cannot recall the exact date of the clash, they estimate it occurred a few weeks ago. My own recollection places it on the 22nd of April, which confirms my earlier deduction that it is now summer.

The journey with the caravan is smooth and uneventful, though I remain vigilant. We pass the Red Sea, its shimmering waters contrasting sharply with the barren sands we've left behind. Following one of the Nile's many deltas, the caravan winds its way toward Cairo.

After two weeks of travel, the city finally comes into view. The sight of Cairo, even from a distance, is awe-inspiring. A bustling metropolis, teeming with life and energy, it feels like the beating heart of the medieval world. As the caravan crests a hill, I pause to take it in, feeling a sense of anticipation. Here, I will learn not only of this era but also of humanity's potential—its resilience, ambition, and spirit.

The stage is set. Cairo awaits.