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

Chapter 12

Viktor Inox

After discovering the plans of certain gods, I've accelerated the formation of a defense force for humanity. The Sentinels are formidable, but they number only a thousand. They can't be everywhere, especially as the Imperium's borders expand.

Right now, nearly half of the Sentinels are assisting our diplomats in bringing Africa into the Imperium. The continent presents unique challenges due to the sheer number of minor gods and spirits. Most people think of the Egyptian pantheon when it comes to African deities, but there are many more—small, localized figures tied to tribes or regions. On their own, they're weak, but their numbers make them a serious obstacle.

Ironically, my efforts to revitalize the Sahara have strengthened some of them. A minor god recently claimed credit for the changes in the desert, drawing more belief and energy from their followers. My Sentinels dealt with them, but every fight like this seems to risk empowering others.

The Sentinels alone won't be enough. If humanity is going to stand against these challenges, we need a larger, organized force—one capable of protecting all our people as we move forward.

And that's why, over the past week since my encounter with Ra, I've focused on creating a training tool.

Taking inspiration from Sword Art Online and Cyberpunk, I've developed a magitech-powered virtual world. Within this world, time flows faster than in reality, and a digital template of me serves as the trainer for those joining humanity's first unified army.

Using Mind Magic and a set of runes inscribed on a headset, individuals can enter the virtual world. There, they'll undergo basic training and face simulated combat scenarios—designed to be as close to real conflict as possible.

The headset also includes mind-fortifying spells, gradually strengthening the user's mental resilience. This is a safeguard against the intensity of the training, which could otherwise be mentally overwhelming. Admittedly, I may have gone a little overboard with the level of realism, but it's necessary to prepare them for what lies ahead.

I've also initiated the mass production of weapons and armor for the army. For now, the newly trained low-class mages from the magical institute serve as the production line.

Each low-class mage is proficient in alchemy, with transmutation and material alteration being fundamental skills. This enables them to efficiently produce the standard weapon templates I've designed.

The mid-class mages, though fewer in number, have been assigned to mass-produce the training headsets. Their construction is far more complex, requiring advanced rune work and greater precision, making them better suited for this task.

The first production batches were rough, but the quality has steadily improved with each shipment. The latest batch is the first I have deemed suitable to equip humanity's soldiers.

I read through the reports on recruitment efforts and nod in satisfaction. So far, nearly all soldiers from the regions incorporated into the Imperium have volunteered for the re-training program.

What strikes me as surprising is how little resistance I've faced from the cities and empires that once ruled these lands. My initial assessment that my actions as the Revelation had global repercussions appears accurate. The presence of my aura, as well as that of the Sentinels and diplomats, seems to inspire cooperation rather than hostility.

Those in power who oppose integration into the Imperium are often the exception—and they are swiftly dealt with. I hold no illusions about humanity's inherent goodness. The reports from my Sentinels detailing humans colluding with supernatural forces out of greed or ambition are enough to remind me of the darker sides of human nature. Removing such elements from positions of influence may seem ruthless, but it is necessary. Those enslaved to supernatural masters have no place in shaping humanity's future. I have made this stance abundantly clear.

The political landscape of the growing Imperium is intriguing. The texts and knowledge I released during my time training the Sentinels have sparked a wave of intellectual discourse among scholars. While the majority support my vision and actions, dissenting voices have emerged, proposing alternative ideologies.

This diversity of thought, though expected, will need careful management. Unity is essential for humanity's survival, but I cannot ignore the value of differing perspectives. These debates, if guided properly, could strengthen the foundation of the Imperium rather than undermine it.

That is why I often participate in such debates while in disguise. Sometimes, I advocate for my own views; other times, I argue for perspectives that contradict mine. It has become a pastime of mine to travel incognito, observing how people are adjusting to their new lives, whether in Alexandria or beyond the Throne World.

Speaking of, Alexandria remains the most advanced city in the Imperium, currently in the second stage of an industrial revolution. Most of the city now benefits from access to electricity and various quality-of-life improvements. Homelessness has been virtually eradicated, save for a few unique individuals who choose such a lifestyle. Hunger and starvation are relics of the past throughout the Imperium.

Interestingly, some of the less martially inclined Sentinels have taken it upon themselves to travel across the Imperium, advancing infrastructure and spreading knowledge to other cities. Healthcare has become a fundamental right, much like the right to bear arms and freedom of speech.

With every day that passes, Humanity is steadily growing into itself. While it will take time to truly bring humanity up to where I remember it, and beyond, it will get there.

As I finish the last of my paperwork, I stretch, feeling the stiffness in my shoulders ease.

"Finally done?" a soft voice cuts through the silence. "I thought you'd be buried in those papers forever."

I glance over at Raynare, lounging on a couch in the corner of the room. Her black wings are splayed out, and she's idly fiddling with a Rubik's cube. My gaze involuntarily drifts over her outfit: modern clothes—a white crop top paired with white jeans, both accentuated by a black choker tied with thin strings.

Tearing my eyes away and meeting her smirking gaze, I reply, "Well, someone has to steer the empire I'm building."

She snorts. "You could leave it to one of your assistants. Didn't you train them to handle this kind of thing?" She finishes solving the Rubik's cube with a flourish before tossing it aside. "I think you just like watching the numbers in your reports go up."

I hum, conceding with a slight smile. "Fair enough." Activating the built-in magical circle on my desk, I teleport the paperwork to its respective destinations. Turning to Raynare, I ask, "Feel like grabbing something to eat? I heard about a new restaurant in town, opened by someone inspired by the recipes I published."

She tilts her head playfully. "Sure, but you're paying." Her smirk widens. "It's a man's job to pay when he invites a lady out, right?"

I chuckle. "Fine, Rayray." Her brow twitches at the nickname, but she doesn't retort.

"Let's go in disguise," I add. "I want to see how things are progressing in the city."

She nods and stands, the movement doing interesting things to her chest. 'Truly, this is DxD,' I think, shaking my head as we teleport out of the castle and into a quiet alleyway, our disguises in place.

As we walk, my thoughts drift to my… situationship with Raynare. She's grown on me. Her time in the Throne World has done wonders for her. Without the literal void in her soul and the constant threat of death hanging over her, she's begun to heal, emotionally and mentally.

Being a low-class Fallen Angel is far from glamorous. Sure, it's better than being an average human in this era, but it's still a precarious life. They're nothing more than cannon fodder in the endless conflicts of the supernatural factions, always one misstep or stray attack away from death. Here, at least, she has safety and stability—something she's likely not known since heaven.

Regardless, Raynare has become a part of my life. Ever since we arrived in the Throne World, she's been living in the castle with me, though neither of us has ever brought it up. It's simply become an unspoken arrangement. Most of her time is spent as a performer or teaching the arts, but we often hang out in our free moments.

If I think about it, she might be the only person who sees me as just Viktor—not the 'Emperor' or the 'Revelation.' She sees me as the person I was when we first met, and that's… refreshing.

While I make an effort to be approachable with everyone I meet, there's always a barrier—whether it's due to my position, my power, or something else, it doesn't matter. That distance is always there.

The closest thing I have to a friend here is Ddraig, and honestly, that says a lot.

My thoughts are interrupted as we stop in front of the "Golden Shawarma Palace."

Raynare gives me a deadpan look. "A bit on the nose, don't you think?"

My mouth twitches, barely suppressing a smile. "I swear I had no hand in the name."

She snorts. "Sure. Anyway, let's head in." She pushes open the door, and we step inside.

Finding a table is easy enough. After we sit, a waitress arrives to take our orders. "I'll have a chicken shawarma with a side of fries, and some orange juice," I say.

Raynare follows. "I'll take a lamb shawarma with the same side and drink."

As the waitress leaves with our order, I silently thank myself for introducing potatoes to the rest of humanity two centuries early. Finding the plant in South America had been almost laughably easy—a quick teleport using Jumper and a locating spell had done the trick.

Raynare rests her chin on her hand, gazing out the window. "This place is hilariously weird, you know that, right?"

I raise an eyebrow. "In what way?"

She turns to me, her expression thoughtful. "Well, to start, compared to other human settlements, this might as well be a utopia." Raising a finger, she continues, "Secondly, the magical advancements in just the past few months are beyond what most supernatural factions have achieved. A low-class mage transmuting matter? That used to be the domain of gods. The only human I remember doing it was Midas—and that was because a god gave him the power."

A second finger joins the first. "And third, maybe the most ridiculous: you've created what's essentially a top faction out of thin air in just a few months." She rolls her eyes as I open my mouth to respond. "Yes, yes, I know—you spent ten years training your Sentinels, but in real time, it was only a few days."

She shakes her head, leaning back in her chair. "Honestly, I'm scared of what the rest of the supernatural world will try. They hardly stand a chance against you in the long run."

I shrug. "What can I say? I was incredibly motivated."

Raynare snorts. "If motivation is all it takes, then the rest of us must be sloth incarnate." She shakes her head before giving me a sharp look. "Anyway, how are your countermeasures against the gods' alliance coming along?"

I smirk, leaning forward as I lower my voice conspiratorially. "Well, let's just say I might've redirected their focus onto someone else."

Her curiosity piqued, she raises an eyebrow. "What did you do? Fan the flames of the Great War to inconvenience them?"

I glance upward, suddenly fascinated by the ceiling.

"…Heaven?" she asks, her tone laced with unease.

I nod, chuckling. "Yep! I used divination to dig up everything I could on their plans." My tone hardens as I add, "I swear, one day I'm going to punch the shit out of those three cronies from Olympus."

Shaking off my irritation, I continue. "Anyway, I packaged up all the information I found and sent it to Heaven."

She frowns, skeptical. "How exactly did you send it? I doubt you just called them up and dropped all of the intel."

"Oh," I say innocently, "I shoved everything into a memory crystal, added some instructions, and tossed it into a breach I made into Heaven."

Raynare freezes, the arriving waitress going unnoticed as she sets our food on the table. "Thank you," she says absently before turning back to me. "You… made a hole in Heaven?"

I nod casually. "Yep. Wasn't too hard with God out of the picture." I take a bite of my shawarma and swallow before adding, "Michael's running things now, so I had to push through his influence for a second to get the package delivered."

Raynare sighs, rubbing her temples. "Why am I even surprised anymore?" She takes a bite of her food, her eyes lighting up. "Mmm, this is nice."

I nod in agreement. "Yeah, it's good." After a moment, I say, "Remind me to cook for you sometime. I bet I could use magic to make it even better."

She smirks. "You think I'll be a guinea pig for your experiments?"

Dramatically, I slap my knee. "Damn it! I thought that would work!"

She giggles. "Hmm, I'll think about it." After a few seconds of silence, she softly says, "...Thanks, Viktor."

I hum in acknowledgment, the moment settling into comfortable quiet as we finish our meal and leave.

Outside, as we walk through the bustling streets, Raynare surprises me by locking her arm with mine.

I glance at her but say nothing, finding myself holding her arm as we continue our 'date,' strolling through the city together.

Salim

As I finish signing the contract and hand it back to the receptionist, she nods and says, "Thank you. This is the final paperwork." Gesturing toward another door, she continues, "Head that way to enter the training chambers. Remember, months will pass inside, while only a week will pass outside as your body undergoes the upgrade."

I nod. "Understood. Thank you."

As I walk toward the indicated door, my thoughts drift to the past few days. For months now, the Imperium has been expanding, guided by the Emperor and protected by the Sentinels.

While many citizens feel safe in their cities, secured by barriers and the constant vigilance of the Sentinels, those of us with a military background have been restless—anxious, even.

The revelation that monsters and all manner of supernatural creatures exist has shattered our understanding of the world. In the face of the Sentinels' incredible power, our traditional weapons—spears, swords, and even arrows—seem laughably inadequate. How can a mere arrow contend with someone who can punch hard enough to shake an entire mountain?

Still, much of that fear has been tempered over the last few days, thanks to the Emperor's recent announcement: the creation of a united human army.

Many of my colleagues have already signed up for the program, one that will send us into another world to train in the ways created by the Emperor. Along with the mandatory physical upgrades, this program is meant to establish the baseline for the average human soldier in the coming era.

Stepping inside, I find myself in a large room divided into sections, with mages from the institute tending to recruits seated within glowing ritual circles. The atmosphere hums with faint magical energy, and the air feels heavy with anticipation.

As I take in the scene, one of the mages approaches me. "Salim, right?" At my nod, he checks something off on his clipboard and gestures for me to follow. "Come this way. I assume you're familiar with what you've signed up for?"

I nod. "Yes, I understand we'll undergo a ritual to enhance our bodies and learn the Emperor's methods of combat."

He nods as well. "Close enough. I doubt you want all the technical details." He motions for me to sit in a reclined chair before continuing. "You'll be unconscious for about a week in real time, but months will pass for you. During that time, a ritual will strengthen your body and unlock your potential. The minimum standard when you return will be Low-Class physical prowess. You'll also train in operating various weapons and learn the Emperor's military doctrine."

The mage lifts a helmet inscribed with glowing runes and hands it to me. "Best of luck with your training, soldier. For humanity."

I take the helmet and place it over my head, responding firmly, "For humanity."

The mage's marks begin to glow, and I feel myself slipping away from reality. The sensation is gentle, like drifting into a dream, until I suddenly find myself standing in an indistinct room, the walls made out of 'concrete' the new material that the imperium is using to construct it's cities.

Seconds later, a beep sounds from the corner of the room, followed by a mechanical voice: "Cadet No. 0034898, report to the barracks office for induction into your squad."

As the voice fades, glowing letters appear in my vision, repeating the order. Above the door, arrows light up, marking the way toward the barracks office.

Stepping out, I find myself in a hallway bustling with activity. Men and women of various backgrounds, some clearly foreigners, walk purposefully, all wearing the same determined expressions.

Following the directions, I eventually join nine others, and together we enter the same room I saw another group enter earlier. Much to my surprise, the room is empty. What greets us instead is what appears to be a… classroom? I think that's the correct term. Rows of desks and chairs are arranged neatly, with a large board at the front and strange devices mounted on the walls.

The sight is both unfamiliar and fascinating, and I can't help but wonder what comes next.

As if on queue, at the front of the room appears a man, his face and body so average you might as well forget it as soon as you take your eyes off of them. "Greetings everyone, I will be your teacher for the foreseeable future." Motioning towards the chairs he says, "sit down and I will go over what you will be experiencing in the coming months."

We all take our seats, and the instructor wastes no time. "Look around at each other," he begins, his voice firm. "The ten of you will be inseparable from now on. You'll eat together, sleep together, and yes, shit together. For all intents and purposes, you are now brothers and sisters."

I glance at the others. A few look uneasy at the declaration, but most seem like seasoned soldiers—familiar with this kind of talk. The sense of shared purpose begins to take root.

The instructor continues, "For the next week, you will be studying. Yes, studying." He gestures to the board behind him, where an image appears. Pointing to it, he elaborates, "This will be your arms and armor. You will learn to operate, clean, and repair it until you can do so blindfolded."

The image displays a figure clad in a unique set of armor, with a helmet fully enclosing their head. Beside them is a device labeled Negative Mana Emitter.

The instructor explains the purpose and function of a rifle, detailing its operation and mechanics. The terminology is foreign to most of us, but his tone makes it clear that mastery of this knowledge is non-negotiable.

The first day is spent learning the basics—familiarizing ourselves with the equipment and our squadmates. By the end of the day, we're assigned a building for our squad's exclusive use and provided a detailed schedule for the weeks ahead.

This is far beyond what I expected. Back in Alexandria, my training as a watchman consisted of a few simple formations and basic spear drills. Here, the scope and depth of the program are leagues ahead.

For the first time, I find myself harboring high expectations—not just for what we'll learn, but for what we'll become.

Gabriel

With a spear of light, I end the centaur leading the assault on my troops. The creature's bellow dies in its throat as its form crumbles, and the battlefield erupts into chaos. The remaining beasts scatter, their charge breaking at the sight of their leader's demise. Yet, before I can vaporize the fleeing abominations in the name of the Father, a deafening crack splits the sky. Instinct takes over, and I raise a barrier just in time to intercept a bolt of lightning crashing down upon me.

The impact sends waves of power rippling through the ground. As the electricity dissipates, I lower the barrier and find myself face-to-face with the one responsible.

"Well, well, if it isn't Gabriel," Zeus says, his voice rich with mockery. A crooked smile splits his face, and his arrogance is palpable. "Before we begin, might I inquire how you managed to find us? We made quite certain your kind wouldn't catch wind of our little get-together. Was it Loki? I knew that wretched schemer was hiding something when Ra disappeared."

I do not respond, my expression unchanging as I relay silent orders to the other angels. They retreat without hesitation, falling back to a safe distance. Every soldier is precious—each irreplaceable in Father's absence. Without His grace to replenish our ranks, the strategies of Heaven must change. Sacrifice is no longer an option.

Zeus' grin widens as he watches my troops withdraw. "What's this? Cowardice? Or perhaps you've finally realized how hopelessly outmatched you are." His laugh is sharp, grating, and it echoes across the battlefield. "No matter. Here is where our rise begins! The world shall once again know the might of the gods! The lands stolen by His schemes will be ours once more!"

One by one, other gods materialize at Zeus' side. Among them are familiar faces—Apollo, Poseidon, and Ares. But they are not alone. I recognize deities from the Slavic pantheon, their forms brimming with power, as well as a contingent of Egyptian gods, including the scribe of their pantheon, Thoth.

The latter steps forward, his usually composed visage contorted with rage. "You!" he cries, pointing an accusing finger at me. "What have you and your wretched siblings done to Ra? His name has been struck from my book. I will have your head for this crime!"

I pause at his words. Do they truly believe we are responsible for Ra's death? The accusation is absurd, yet it reveals a deeper truth: even now, the Golden Heretic's lies twist the hearts of those who should know better. This confrontation, inevitable after Father's disappearance, has come sooner than expected. While our campaign against the heresy will falter from this distraction, it is a necessary delay. Once Father returns, He will remake humanity and begin anew, as He has done before.

There is no more room for words.

With a surge of power, I unleash a barrage of light spikes, their golden brilliance raining down upon the gathered gods. Barriers flicker into existence, and most of the deities evade unscathed, but I note with satisfaction that several among their number falter, their lesser divinity unable to withstand the assault.

The odds are grim. Facing almost a dozen gods will test my limits. Yet, I am Gabriel—the Strength of God, Heaven's General. Only Michael matches my power among our ranks. Today, I will show these pretenders what it means to stand against an angel of the Lord.

The clash of divine power shakes the battlefield, neither side gaining a clear advantage as I hold the line against the gathered gods. My focus is sharp, every movement precise, yet the sheer number of opponents begins to test my endurance. Zeus continues his onslaught, each bolt of lightning tearing through the air like a vengeful roar of nature.

"Do you truly believe you can hold against all of us, Gabriel?!" he shouts, his laughter carrying over the din of battle. Another bolt strikes the ground inches from my feet, scattering shards of stone as I leap clear. "When your Father returns—if He ever does—He will find His faithful scattered and broken. They will see the folly of their faith and return to us, the true gods!"

I bite back the anger his blasphemy stirs within me, channeling it instead into a sweeping arc of light that forces both Poseidon and Ares to retreat. Yet, for every moment of reprieve, another assault follows. Poseidon thrusts with his trident, each strike like a tidal wave, while Ares' savage swings hammer against my defenses. Their attacks leave no room for respite, forcing me to divide my attention.

A sudden surge of divine energy pulls my gaze to the side. Perun, the Slavic god of storms, charges at me, his hammer wreathed in crackling energy. The weapon arcs toward me with the force of an avalanche, and for a moment, I know I will not escape unscathed.

But then, a flash of light intervenes. "Not this time, Perun!" Remiel's voice cuts through the chaos as his sword intercepts the hammer mid-swing. The clash sends a shockwave rippling outward, but Remiel holds firm. His arrival, though timely, does not turn the tide—it merely evens it.

Raziel joins the fray, his blade a blur as he strikes at Perun with surgical precision. Yet, the gods are not easily undone. Veles, the Slavic trickster, moves with unnerving agility, pulling Perun out of Raziel's reach and countering with tendrils of shadow that force my brother to retreat.

The battle remains a deadly stalemate. Every strike we land is met with an equally devastating retaliation. Ares and Poseidon fight with brutal coordination, their attacks weaving together in a relentless barrage that keeps me on the defensive. Zeus, with his lightning, provides unrelenting pressure, forcing me to expend precious energy deflecting his attacks.

Meanwhile, Remiel and Raziel hold their own against Perun and Veles, but their opponents fight with cunning and ferocity. Remiel deflects a barrage of blows from Perun, each strike pushing him closer to the edge of his endurance. Raziel dances around Veles' shadowy constructs, but the trickster's attacks grow bolder with each passing moment.

Even with our combined might, the gods' numbers and coordination make it impossible to gain ground. Each of us is forced into a deadly rhythm of attack and counterattack, with no margin for error. The battlefield is a tempest of clashing power, neither side relenting, each moment more perilous than the last.

"You cannot win, Gabriel!" Zeus thunders, his voice booming over the cacophony. His confidence burns as bright as his lightning, his strikes unyielding. "You cling to the memory of a Father who abandoned you! What will you do when your strength fades, when the heavens crumble under the weight of truth?"

His words are meant to wound, to weaken resolve. Yet, even as my body protests the relentless strain, my determination remains unbroken.

Determination alone is not enough, and the tide of battle begins to slip from my grasp. As Zeus, Ares, and Thoth assault me with a relentless barrage of magic, I catch sight of Poseidon breaking away from the fight. His trident gleams with malevolent energy as he charges toward Remiel. I call out, but my warning comes too late.

Poseidon's strike lands true, and Remiel falters, his blade slipping from his grip as blood stains his armor. The sight tightens something deep within me, but there is no time for hesitation. Raziel moves swiftly, catching Remiel before he collapses and shielding him with his own body as I give the command: "Disengage. Retreat to Heaven."

Raziel's expression tightens, but he does not argue. With Remiel's arm slung over his shoulder, he leaps back, the two of them retreating to a safe distance. The battlefield shifts as I bear the brunt of the enemy's assault alone, my barrier flickering under the combined force of their attacks.

Victory is no longer an option here. With our current forces, continuing this fight would be folly. Yet, retreat alone is not enough. These gods must understand that Heaven's resolve is not to be taken lightly.

Zeus' mocking voice cuts through the din, his arrogance unshaken by our retreat. "Running already, Gabriel? Where is your Father now, angel? Has He abandoned you to face us alone?"

I ignore his taunts, my focus narrowing. I cannot allow this affront to go unanswered. Gathering myself, I begin to pray, reaching out to Father's system, drawing upon the vast reservoir of faith energy that sustains Heaven. The words come not from myself, but from the purpose He instilled within me—a conduit for His will.

"Oh, Father, Most Holy," I begin, my voice ringing across the battlefield, clear and resolute. "Grant me Your light, that it may cleanse the unworthy. Let Your judgment pierce the darkness, as it has always done. Through me, strike down those who defy Your order, that all may know the power of Heaven."

Zeus, sensing the shift in energy, roars in fury. "Stop her! Stop her now!" His command echoes as the gods redouble their efforts to break my barrier. Thoth weaves intricate sigils, Poseidon hurls his trident's power, and Ares strikes with brute force, yet it is all in vain. The barrier, sustained by Father's system, holds firm.

The prayer reaches its crescendo, and the heavens respond.

A blinding light pierces the ceiling of this dimension, the sky splitting as a beam of pure, holy energy descends. The brilliance is overwhelming, a light that carries with it the weight of divine judgment. The battlefield is engulfed in radiance as the Father's wrath manifests.

The weaker deities, unable to withstand the onslaught, are obliterated in an instant, their forms reduced to ash that scatters on the divine winds. The more powerful gods cry out as the light burns them, their forms scorched and broken, their pride shattered.

Zeus himself stumbles under the weight of the attack, his bravado faltering as the light sears his flesh. His voice, once mocking and triumphant, now carries a note of desperation.

I do not wait to witness the full extent of the devastation. The prayer is complete, and the judgment has been cast. My purpose here is fulfilled.

With a final glance at the battlefield, I activate the teleportation magic woven into Heaven's light, my form dissolving into brilliance as I return to the safety of Heaven. The familiar stillness of the celestial realm surrounds me as I reappear, the tension of the battle giving way to a solemn calm.

The mission may not have ended in victory, but the message was clear: Heaven does not yield. The gods have been humbled, their arrogance burned by the light of the Father. The cost, however, is one I feel deeply as I glance at the wounded Remiel, his blood staining the celestial floor.

I bow my head, silently offering thanks to the Father for granting us the strength to endure—and praying for what lies ahead.