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

Interlude 2

Lilith

As I stand among the endless line of people waiting to get their 'papers', I can't help but wonder how in the world I ended up here.

One moment, I was painstakingly crafting yet another son, destined to serve as nothing more than a pawn in the grand game. The next, two glowing figures clad in radiant armor tore through the wards of my pit like they were nothing. Before I could react, they seized me and hurled me into another dimension.

Flashback

I carefully mold the tar-like material, slowly giving shape to the body.

Just as I prepare to breathe life into his soul, a wave of energy surges through the cavern.

Its golden radiance pierces even the deepest recesses of the castle, bypassing the wards as if they didn't exist.

The Devil Pit begins to bubble and churn violently, its very essence recoiling from the presence of this foreign energy.

It takes less than ten minutes for the entire castle to tremble. I feel the wards shatter, and the ceiling collapses into the cavern. From the debris, two figures clad in golden armor descend like divine judgment.

They land directly in the pit, the tar sizzling and hissing as it touches their radiant armor. I can only stare, dumbfounded.

"Brother! Here she is. This is the last one. Let us leave this wretched place," one of them says, his voice commanding yet calm.

The other strides toward me with purpose. Before I can react, his spear flashes, tearing apart the chains that bind me. In a single motion, he lifts me effortlessly with one hand.

What the hell?

"You are safe now, sister. These vile beings will never again control your fate. I swear this on my very soul," he declares, his voice resolute and filled with conviction.

The last thing I see before being thrown into a swirling golden vortex is Lucifer, raving like a madman. His eyes burn with fury as he drags another of the golden-clad figures into the cavern, their radiance dimming slightly under his grasp.

Moments later, I land amidst a veritable sea of people, disoriented and unable to comprehend what just happened.

Flashback End

And that's how I find myself here, speaking to another human being for the first time in what must be a few centuries.

Sliding a magical piece of paper across the counter, the woman says, "Here you go, miss. Fill out this form, and we'll get you sorted." She places a pen beside the paper and adds, "If you don't know how to write, I can fill it out for you. The paper will translate the text into something any reader can understand, so just write in whatever language you're most comfortable with."

I tilt my head, curious. "How come you can speak my language, then? I highly doubt you're fluent in... well, the one I know."

She smiles and tilts her head, revealing an earring. "This is a magical artifact created by the Magical Institute. It's one of the first widely-used designs developed after the Revelation."

Her explanation raises even more questions. Am I in some Magical community? Institute? Revelation? The words are foreign, their meanings only vaguely clear.

Still, I nod and turn my attention to the form. For my name, I write Lili. For age… well, I appear to be in my twenties by mortal standards, so I write that.

When I reach the section on occupation, I see a few boxes to check. One of them reads Mage. I mark it and complete the rest of the form.

Handing it back, the woman nods and feeds it into a strange contraption. Within seconds, a rectangular metal token emerges from the machine, etched with the information I had written.

"Here you go," she says, handing it to me. "This is your identification token. It states that you arrived with the last wave of refugees and grants you temporary shelter in the newly constructed residential district."

She continues, "Until you're on your feet, you'll receive a stipend for basic necessities." She places my form onto a growing pile beside her. "Since you've identified as a mage, I'd recommend contacting the Magical Institute. They're always looking for new knowledge and would gladly offer you a position."

I nod, trying to process her words, though my thoughts are still muddled. Is this real? Or some fever dream my mind has conjured to escape reality?

"Thank you," I say, my voice steady despite my confusion. I leave the line as she calls for the next person, a mother and her young child… a half-devil, judging by the faint resonance I feel from him.

Curiosity urges me to linger, but I resist and continue on, following the signs to the 'Residential District.'

I make my way through a city teeming with life, its energy buzzing around me. Markets stretch endlessly in every direction, stalls overflowing with goods both familiar and foreign. The air is filled with the hum of conversation, the clinking of coins, and the aroma of spices and fresh produce.

As I walk, I can't help but notice uniformed individuals patrolling the streets. Their weapons and armor emit a faint magical aura, marking them as protectors of this place. Yet, unlike in Lilith, where such figures would inspire fear or mistrust, here they are met with warmth and gratitude.

One of the stall owners hands them apples—a gesture so ironic to me that I feel a faint twitch tug at the corner of my lips.

I pass an older woman who has stopped one of the younger guards, enthusiastically talking to him about her daughter. The poor man shifts awkwardly under her scrutiny, visibly uncomfortable but too polite to walk away.

After a few more minutes of wandering, I finally spot the building I am meant to stay in. It looms ahead, an impressive structure that must be five floors tall.

What truly amazes me, however, is its construction. Despite its grandeur, it is entirely mundane—no magical reinforcements to bolster its frame, no protective sigils woven into its foundation. I can only sense the flickering magical signatures of the people inside, faint and scattered.

The realization leaves me awestruck. Such a feat, achieved purely by mortal hands, feels both foreign and impressive.

Walking inside, I am greeted by an older woman seated at a desk.

"Oh, hello, dearie," she says, waving me over with a warm smile. "You must be one of those unfortunate souls, aren't you? Don't worry—so long as you are under the Revelation's sight, those abominations will never touch you again."

As she speaks, I notice the book in her hands, its cover adorned with golden letters spelling The Imperial Truth.

I simply nod, unsure of what to say. Her expression softens, her smile becoming more sympathetic. "It's alright, dearie," she says gently, sifting through one of the desk drawers. After a moment, she pulls out a set of keys, faintly glowing with a magical aura.

"These are for you," she says, holding them out. "When you take them, they'll attune to you, and no one else will be able to use them."

As I take the keys, I notice a half-devil walking past us, her horns prominently visible as she heads toward the stairs. My gaze lingers on her for a moment, prompting a soft chuckle from the older woman.

"Worry not, dear," she reassures me. "She is merely a half-devil." Placing her hand gently on the book, she recites:

"Despise not the child, for no soul chooses the circumstances of their birth. So long as human blood courses through their veins, they are kin to us, bound by the same thread of life, and deserving of the dignity and unity that is the right of all mankind."

Her voice carries a quiet reverence, and for a moment, the room feels still.

I thank her and make my way toward the stairs, half-convinced I felt some sort of energy emanate as she recited those words.

Shaking off the thought, I open the door to my new dwelling and step inside. There is much to ponder in the days ahead.

Zeus

All twelve of us sit upon our thrones in the grand gathering hall of Olympus, the air thick with anticipation as the three sisters prepare to speak.

These past few months have been... unusual, to say the least. It all began with the sisters raving about their strings being cut—a bizarre claim I dismissed as hysteria. But then matters escalated when that announcement echoed across the world, reverberating even through mighty Greece.

The so-called Anathema. A mortal, they said, who dared to defy the works of that pretentious fool who calls himself the King of Creation. His hubris is galling, but the idea of a mortal challenging him? Laughable. Yet those words—those words—stirred something in the mortals, something I had not foreseen.

To my ire, what were once human covens devoted to our worship turned their backs on us, abandoning their faith to gather in strange unity. It is an affront I cannot ignore.

My grip tightens on the arm of my throne as I think of those worms. They believe they can defy the gods? Hah! A few bolts of my wrath, a smiting or two, and they will remember their place beneath Olympus. Mortals are fickle, fragile things—easily brought to heel.

Let them revel in their newfound defiance for now. The gods always have the last word.

My thoughts are interrupted as the three sisters begin to speak, their voices weaving together like a single thread:

"He who bears the mantle of humanity has taken action," begins Clotho, her voice calm yet laced with urgency.

"The usurper's plan," continues Lachesis, her tone sharp and measured, "has been severed like a string."

"He has been removed from the board… for now," Atropos finishes, her words cold and final.

"The anomaly of humanity," Clotho resumes, her eyes glinting with curiosity, "remains shrouded in mystery."

"But he is certain to emerge," adds Lachesis, her voice rising with conviction, "and he will do so with force."

"By trickery," Atropos declares, her lips curling into a faint sneer, "he triumphed over the usurper."

"He sacrificed much to claim that victory," Clotho murmurs, her gaze distant.

"And now," Lachesis interjects, her voice dark with anticipation, "he must be weak."

"The world," Atropos concludes, her tone steady and unyielding, "is ripe for our return."

Their words hang in the air, their meaning clear yet brimming with implication. My hand tightens once more on the arm of my throne as the weight of their prophecy settles over us.

The silence is broken by Athena, her voice sharp and unyielding.

"Surely, you don't believe this tale?" she begins, her skeptical gaze sweeping the room. "Even if it's true, Heaven's strength doesn't rest solely on Him. His soulless creations will undoubtedly guard His domain."

Apollo leans back, his expression light and amused. "Now, now, Athena," he interjects smoothly. "While that may be true, let's not forget—we're not the only ones harboring… grievances against Him." A sly smile crosses his face as he closes one eye. "With Him off the board, everyone will be scrambling to seize this opportunity. Our odds have never looked better."

Before anyone can respond, Dionysus interrupts with a drunken wave of his gourd, his voice slurred yet oddly pointed.

"Hic—You're all so busy talking about Him, but what about the human?" He takes a long swig from his gourd and gestures lazily. "If that mortal managed to outwit Him and ruin His grand plan, then he's more dangerous than you realize." His glazed eyes flick to the three sisters, and he smirks. "No matter what these witches want you to believe."

The three sisters bristle, their voices rising in unison.

"You—!"

"Halt your tongue—"

"—or face the consequences."

Dionysus rolls his eyes dramatically, taking another drink and leaning back with deliberate indifference, utterly unfazed by their threats.

Ares slams his fist on the arm of his throne, his voice cutting through the tension.

"Surely, you're not all cowards? Whatever that mortal did trapped Hades—" he pauses, a smirk tugging at his lips. And isn't that an amusing thought? Dear old brother stuck in his dreary little kingdom! "—in the underworld. He's already declared war on us!"

Aphrodite chuckles softly, her tone dripping with amusement. "Calm down, Ares~"

Beside her, Hephaestus's brow visibly twitches as she mutters, "We wouldn't want to do anything rash, now would we~?"

The room falls silent after that, no one willing to add more. I take the opportunity to rise and declare my decision.

"We will contact the other pantheons. If they choose to join us in reclaiming our glory, then we will act."

The hall divides instantly. Ares, Apollo, and Poseidon exchange eager smiles, their anticipation palpable. Demeter, Hestia, and Dionysus frown, their displeasure clear. Others, like Artemis, Aphrodite, and Hera, remain indifferent, their expressions unreadable.

"We will convene again after we hear back from them," I announce firmly before turning my gaze to Hermes. "Hermes, deliver this message to all the pantheons affected by His expansion:

'In the wake of this opportunity, all those who seek to reclaim their lost glory are welcome within the halls of Olympus.'"

The twelve gods of Olympus begin to disperse as the meeting comes to an end. The three sisters vanish into their secluded corner of the pantheon, their cryptic murmurs trailing off like whispers carried on the wind. Ares, his fiery temper still simmering, is yanked away by Aphrodite, her grip on his arm firm yet laced with an almost playful authority. Dionysus, as expected, staggers off without a word, his ever-present gourd tilted back as he takes another swig, the faint scent of wine lingering in his wake.

I watch as Hestia lingers. Her hesitation is almost imperceptible, but I know her too well to miss it. She glances back at the now-empty thrones, a flicker of something—concern, perhaps?—crossing her gentle features. Then, with a quiet sigh, she vanishes in a burst of hearthfire, leaving the hall silent once more.

Leaning back on my throne, I allow a smile to curve my lips, a rare moment of genuine satisfaction settling over me. If this plan succeeds, Olympus will rise again, restored to its rightful glory. We will no longer skulk in this dimension, cut off from our realm, watching as mortals bend the knee to Him. No, we will reclaim what is ours. This time, there will be no mistakes, no hubris to blind us to the dangers of complacency.

And yet, as satisfying as that thought is, I find my mind wandering. If the fates truly align and the world bows once more to Olympus, perhaps I shall indulge in one final act of mercy. Perhaps I will choose to spare Gabriel. After all, mercy is the prerogative of a king, is it not? And I am nothing if not a king.

Still, even mercy can serve as a statement of power. Let the world see that Zeus, King of Olympus, claims the spoils of victory not out of desperation, but as a ruler who knows his worth. Let Gabriel and her kind understand that sparing her would not be weakness—it would be a declaration that Olympus is strong enough to show compassion, even to those who once served Him.

The thought amuses me. Yes, perhaps I shall consider it. But first, the pantheons must answer. And when they do, the world will tremble once more under the might of Olympus.

Tiamat

This is absolute bullshit!

I decide to leave my lair for a few days—stretch my wings, take in some fresh air, maybe nab a treasure or two for the hoard. A little vacation, you know?

But the moment I leave, some madman seals the entirety of the Underworld! I mean, what the fuck? I can appreciate the sheer audacity, but come on! My treasures are in there! My hoard! It's been almost two weeks, and I haven't heard a single word about who's behind this insanity.

Even the crows I caught were uncharacteristically quiet, mumbling nonsense about the "Watchers being right" or some such cryptic nonsense.

'I swear, if Lucifer or one of his little bats so much as touches my cave, I'll raze his precious little capital to the ground!' I stomp toward a nearby human town in my human form, still fuming.

When I enter the town, it's the usual scene: humans bustling about their simple lives. Some work the market stalls, others haul stones to build their fragile little huts. A few starve in the streets, begging for scraps.

One woman, thin and gaunt, carries a child strapped to her back while trying to keep another from stumbling beside her. I cast a small healing spell her way—nothing fancy, just enough to deal with the sickness clinging to her like a shadow. It would be embarrassing if a mother couldn't provide for her cubs because of something so pitifully mortal.

As I stroll through the town, bored and still simmering with irritation, something catches my attention.

"Hear me! Hear me, people, for I bring news!"

Standing atop a fountain is a man in gleaming, shiny armor. My eyes narrow. Ooh, magical... maybe I'll nab it later.

The fountain is soon surrounded by curious townsfolk. The man surveys them, his voice booming.

"You have all felt it, have you not?" he calls out, his question rippling through the crowd. "A full moon ago—the Revelation and His words!"

The crowd murmurs in response, a few gasps escaping from wide-eyed villagers. The collective sound of agreement rises—"Yes!"

The man's smile widens, practically glowing with self-importance as he continues.

"I am one of His messengers! The Revelation has granted me the honor of bringing you the truth!"

The murmurs grow louder, the crowd shifting with a mix of awe and unease.

I lean against a wall at the edge of the square, crossing my arms as I watch the scene unfold. Well, well, I think, my lips curling into a small smirk. This could be interesting.

The man begins his tale, recounting how this so-called Revelation supposedly stole an entire city. Hmm… I want to meet him. I bet we'd get along great! I think, intrigued.

He continues, describing how Alexandria—the stolen city—is now within its own world, its people free from starvation and sickness. I notice some in the crowd are skeptical, their eyes narrowing and whispers rippling through the square. But that doubt is quickly replaced with awe as the man performs a startling display of magic.

With a flash of red lightning, the fountain beneath him transforms into bronze. The metallic sheen gleams in the sunlight, and a hush falls over the crowd. Eyes widen, mouths gape, and the murmurs die out. The man uses the stunned silence to continue his speech, his voice strong and commanding.

As he delves into an explanation of how he performed the magic and the nature of its power, the moment is interrupted. A clergyman rushes into the square, his face red with fury.

"Demon! You vile demon! A witch in disguise!" the priest cries, his voice rising above the murmurs of the crowd. He turns to the people, gesturing wildly. "Do not trust the words of this gold-clad liar! He seeks to lead you astray!"

He points a trembling finger at the man on the fountain. "You! Your vile games will find no purchase here! It is only through God's grace that man can truly live, not through the lies of your so-called lord!"

The crowd erupts into murmurs once more, divided and uncertain. But the man atop the fountain raises his hand, commanding silence.

"Is that so?" he says calmly, his voice carrying an edge. "Well then, tell me, sheep of your so-called 'God.'" He gestures toward the gathered crowd. "How can you call this living? Look around you. All I see is a broken people. Some starve on the streets, while others sell stale bread for scraps!"

He sweeps his arm toward the dwellings surrounding the square. "Look at these huts of mud and rotting wood you call homes. Is this what you call living?" Then, with a sharp gesture toward the towering church in the distance, he continues, "And look at your house of God, standing tall and gleaming in the midst of this squalor. Its splendor is an insult to the misery that surrounds it."

Turning back to the priest, his expression hardens into a sneer. "No. You are living. These people are merely surviving. Do you feel no shame? Do you not feel shame as you walk these streets, seeing your fellow man starving and desperate?"

The priest stammers, his confidence wavering. "B-but… it is all God's plan! He protects—"

"Lies!" the man roars, cutting him off. His voice echoes through the square, silencing the priest entirely. "Do not dare lie to me! Protect who? These people?"

The man laughs bitterly, his derision palpable. "Just as I walked through the roads of this very kingdom, I was assaulted by vampires!"

The priest pales visibly, his words caught in his throat. The man points at the crowd. "Look here, people! Look at what your 'God' claims to protect you from!" With a dramatic flourish, he throws a bundle to the ground. It unravels as it lands, revealing the severed head of a vampire, its sharp fangs glinting in the light. Gasps ripple through the crowd as the grotesque sight sinks in.

"Look at the fangs! Look at the ears of this monster!" the man thunders. "I doubt there is anyone here who hasn't heard the tales—tales of blood-sucking demons, preying on the lives of men. Is this the protection you cling to? A God who lets such monsters roam free?"

The crowd remains stunned, caught between fear and the uncomfortable weight of the man's words.

"You keep these people ignorant!" the man thunders, his voice cutting through the crowd's murmurs. "You hide the truth from them, letting them unknowingly live as cattle for the forces of darkness that roam this world!"

As he prepares to continue, a sudden light descends from the sky, brilliant and blinding.

Hmm? A pigeon? I think, squinting upward. From the heavens materializes a six-winged angel, its radiant form hovering above the square.

The priest gasps, his fervor reigniting. "See!? See!? It is God's servant! He has come to smite you for your heresy!"

The angel begins to gather its power, its voice echoing with divine authority. "Another herd lost to the Anathema… You will die where you stand, for all of you are sinners!"

The priest's triumphant cries falter, his face paling. The crowd descends into chaos, panic spreading like wildfire. People scream and scramble, desperate to flee.

Before I can step in to deal with the pigeon myself—perhaps scare it off for fun—the man remains unshaken. He raises his voice, calm yet commanding.

"You can come out now, brother, or these people will faint from fear!"

At his words, a shimmering illusion at the base of the fountain dissipates, revealing a tall, imposing figure clad in resplendent golden armor. My eyes narrow. How? I think, a flicker of unease prickling my senses. How did I not sense him at all?

The angel's eyes widen in shock, its gathering power intensifying as it prepares to unleash an attack large enough to obliterate the entire town.

But before it can act, the golden-clad being moves. With speed so blinding that even I blink in surprise, he rushes toward the angel, his blade cutting through the air with precision.

In a single, fluid motion, he cleaves the angel in two, its radiant form shattering like glass. The split halves of its body plummet to the ground, lifeless, the divine glow extinguished.

The man breaks the silence as he declares, "see? This is the gd you worship! One who would not hesitate to erase you for merely knowing what you supposedly should not!"

"So tell me, people of mankind, will you still choose to follow this uncaring god? Or will you choose to stand side by side, and face the world as one with your fellow man?" he declares, and the crowd glares venomously at the priest.

It begins slowly, but eventually as one all of the people begin chanting. 'Revelation! Revelation! Revelation!'

The man nods at his companion, who raises his spear and strikes the ground. Within moments, a giant golden magical circle envelops the town. I can visibly see every man and woman pause, as their bodies begin to mend.

Those plagued by sickness heal in mere moments, their bodies straightening with renewed vigor. Those wounded or missing limbs are renewed, as if time itself is flowing back they gain what was once lost.

Without exception, every man, woman, child, and elder in the square begins to change. Their skin takes on a healthy sheen, their once-starved bodies filling out as if magic itself were reshaping them. Flesh forms where hollowness once dominated, their malnourished frames transforming into the very peak of mortal potential. Muscles ripple visibly beneath their threadbare clothes, their bodies radiating vitality in stark contrast to the despair that had clung to them moments before.

"Do you see what you can be?" the man calls out, his voice powerful and unwavering. "Look around you! Look at each other and realize! Look at each other and understand what you can achieve when you are no longer shackled by those who treat you like cattle!"

He stretches his arms wide, as though embracing the entire town.

"Man was never meant to be a sheep! Man was meant to conquer the land, to build wonders that defy comprehension, to understand the mysteries of existence!" His words seem to strike a chord with the crowd, their attention utterly captivated.

"And now, you see it too, don't you?" he continues, his voice rising in intensity. "Now, you understand! Humanity was never meant to cower or be divided. Humanity is meant to stand united!"

Tears streak down the faces of some in the crowd, parents clutching their children tightly, disbelief etched into their features. Others stare at their own hands, flexing and clenching them as though testing the newfound strength coursing through their veins. A few break away from the gathering entirely, rushing toward their homes, likely hoping this miraculous boon extends to their families as well.

The man laughs, a sound full of triumph and certainty, his presence filling the square. "Let this be your personal Revelation! Humanity is not meant to serve. Humanity is meant to thrive!"

I watch from the edge of the square, leaning casually against a wall, though my mind churns with disbelief. What the fuck?

In all my years—long, endless years—I've seen countless cults rise and fall. Some were founded on the worship of genuine gods, their intentions ranging from noble to outright vile. Others were little more than the delusions of supernatural creatures attempting to reach above their station.

Most cults promise their followers nothing tangible, just vague rewards for their devotion—riches, power, salvation, all coming someday. Some manage to provide basic necessities, like food or shelter, but even that is rare.

This? This is something else entirely.

The golden knight didn't just promise. He acted. He sliced an angel in half—an angel!—and then reshaped an entire town in moments, granting its people health and strength beyond anything they'd ever known.

It's... blatant. Audacious. And undeniably effective.

As I turn to leave, shaking my head at the absurdity of it all, a voice calls out behind me.

"Excuse me, miss."

I stop, turning slowly to see none other than the golden knight standing before me. Up close, he's even more imposing, his towering figure clad in radiant armor that gleams like sunlight itself.

"May I have a moment of your time?" he asks, his tone surprisingly polite for someone who had just cleaved a celestial being in two. "My brothers and I noticed what you did for that woman earlier. May we ask why?"

I freeze, caught off guard. "H-huh? What do you mean? Haha, I didn't do anything." My laugh is forced, and it clearly doesn't fool him.

He tilts his head slightly, his piercing gaze unwavering. "We know you're not human. We realized that the moment you entered this town." His voice remains calm but firm. "But you chose to help one of them. Why?"

For a moment, I consider denying it again, but what's the point? With a sigh, I drop the illusion cloaking me. The appearance of an ordinary mortal woman falls away, revealing my true form. My long, downward-curving horns gleam faintly, and my supernatural presence visibly startles a few lingering townsfolk.

"I simply hate seeing a struggling mother," I reply with a shrug. "It costs me nothing to aid a mortal, so why not?"

The knight chuckles softly, nodding as though my answer satisfies him. "I see. My liege has requested your presence. Would you be willing to meet him?"

I tilt my head, curious. "Hm? You mean this Revelation fellow?"

He nods, and I shrug. "Very well. It's not like I have much else to do, what with some prick sealing off the Underworld…"

For a brief moment, I could swear I see him falter, his step stuttering ever so slightly. His composure quickly returns, though, and he gestures toward a shimmering golden portal that appears nearby.

I follow, my curiosity piqued as I step through the glowing gateway, the glittering air around it sparking faintly against my skin. The mysteries surrounding this Revelation man grow deeper by the moment, and for the first time in ages, I find myself intrigued.