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

Chapter 5

Excerpt from The Birth of Anathema: Humanity's Ascent

Ajuka Astaroth, Professor of Historical Studies, Lilith Academy

Chapter IV: The Golden Revelation

Scholars often debate whether history is shaped by gradual progress or singular, cataclysmic events. Few moments exemplify the latter more profoundly than the Birth of Anathema, an event that forever shattered the balance between humanity and the supernatural.

The first recorded appearance of the Anathema occurred in Alexandria during the height of the Great War. Historical records, though fragmented, all agree on one harrowing fact: Alexandria was not conquered by war or ravaged by disaster—it was taken. A vortex of spatial energy consumed the city in its entirety. Entire districts, homes, and their inhabitants vanished in an instant, leaving behind a barren expanse of earth. The only remnants of the city were three mosques, inexplicably left untouched on raised plateaus, as if spared by deliberate design.

What set this event apart, however, was not the destruction alone but the golden beam of light that pierced the heavens before it. This light, overwhelming in its purity and radiance, was felt by every supernatural being across the world. Devils recoiled in fear, angels faltered in their celestial duties, and even the aloof dragons reportedly stirred within their sanctuaries.

But the light did not only affect the supernatural. Entire human cities reportedly came to a halt. People stopped in their tracks, their gazes instinctively turning toward the direction of Alexandria, even though most could not see the light itself. Later accounts revealed that all humans with even the faintest sensitivity to magical power experienced the event viscerally. They did not merely see or feel the light—they heard the Anathema's words.

The exact phrases spoken remain a matter of scholarly debate, but the emotional impact is undeniable. Survivors describe the words as overwhelming, imbued with a profound sense of purpose, defiance, and power. Many reported experiencing what could only be described as "revelations," sudden flashes of insight or a transformative understanding of their place in the world. The Anathema's message was not kind or gentle; it was an unrelenting declaration of humanity's worth and the futility of the supernatural's dominion over them.

For many Christians and Muslims, this moment became a crisis of faith. Those who had spent their lives worshiping divine powers felt their beliefs falter in the face of the Anathema's presence. The purity of his conviction, the strength of his words, and the undeniable humanity in his aura led countless followers to question their gods. Entire congregations abandoned their faiths, no longer able to reconcile their beliefs with what they had felt.

Conversely, the event ignited a wave of unity among humanity. The Anathema's words carried something profound—familiar yet unyielding, as though he spoke directly to the human soul. It is believed this hastened the creation of the Human Imperium by decades. Cities and towns, scattered and fractured, began to rally to the Anathema's banner without hesitation. Entire regions declared their allegiance, convinced that his power and vision were the only path to liberation from the supernatural forces that had ruled over them for millennia.

For the devils, the Birth of Anathema was a moment of unparalleled dread. They, who had for centuries seen humanity as little more than a resource, now faced the rise of a force they could neither comprehend nor contain. The golden light did not merely sear their flesh—it seared their pride.

For the angels, it was a moment of profound dissonance. They had long considered themselves protectors of humanity, the agents of divine will. Yet the Anathema's light carried no divine signature, no trace of Heaven's hand. It was purely, unmistakably human.

The disappearance of Alexandria marked the beginning of an era that would reshape the world. Humanity, fractured and vulnerable for centuries, began to unify under a shared purpose. The Anathema's presence became a symbol, a rallying cry for a species that had long endured subjugation. His aura, unmistakably human yet incomprehensibly powerful, inspired faith not in gods, but in the boundless potential of mankind.

Despite countless efforts, the supernatural factions have been unable to explain the Anathema's nature or origin. He remains an enigma, a being whose power defies the laws of Heaven, Hell, and Earth. Some call him a liberator, a figure sent to free humanity from its chains. Others see him as a destroyer, a harbinger of ruin for the old order.

What cannot be denied is the magnitude of his impact. The Birt-

Chapter VI: Humanity's Ascent

The rise of humanity following the Birth of Anathema cannot be overstated. What was once a fragmented and dependent species, reliant on supernatural forces for survival, became a unified, independent power capable of rivaling the greatest factions of the supernatural world.

The Anathema, though rarely appearing directly, became the rallying figure of this transformation. His presence during pivotal moments galvanized humanity into action, and the residual aura of his words—first felt during the golden revelation in Alexandria—remained a guiding force. Wherever his influence reached, fractured cities and isolated communities found common purpose, casting off their reliance on gods, devils, and fallen angels.

The decades that followed Alexandria saw an unprecedented surge in human ingenuity, innovation, and unity. Though the Anathema himself was an enigmatic and often absent figure, his actions had sparked a chain reaction that forever altered humanity's trajectory. Three key disciplines emerged during this period, each marking a milestone in their ascent: Mathematical Magic, True Alchemy, and Algorithmic Sorcery.

Mathematical Magic: The Legacy of Merlin Asmodeus

The groundwork for humanity's rise had been laid centuries earlier by Merlin, the legendary half-devil son of the late Satan Asmodeus. Merlin's Mathematical Magic was a system that reduced spellcraft to equations, making it accessible to those without innate magical talent.

Initially dismissed by supernatural factions and even by humans themselves, the system found new life in the aftermath of the Anathema's appearance. The need for precision and reproducibility in magic—qualities that traditional spellcraft often lacked—drove scholars to revisit Merlin's teachings. By breaking spells into formulas and constants, Mathematical Magic enabled humans to wield magic with efficiency that rivaled even the oldest devil bloodlines.

Within a few decades, academies dedicated to the study of Mathematical Magic arose, their halls filled with students learning not just to cast spells but to optimize them. This democratization of magic allowed humanity to bridge the gap between prodigy and novice, creating an army of practitioners capable of matching supernatural forces.

True Alchemy: The Art of Equivalence

While Mathematical Magic spread rapidly, a second discipline emerged that would redefine humanity's ability to reshape the physical world: True Alchemy. Building upon ancient principles and informed by the scientific rigor of their time, humans developed a system of transmutation circles and sigils that allowed for the precise manipulation of matter and energy.

True Alchemy was grounded in the concept of equivalence—something cannot be created without giving something of equal value in return. This principle, though limiting, gave humanity a tool of incredible versatility. Entire cities were rebuilt in days. Resources that once required decades to gather could now be synthesized. Weapons, fortifications, and infrastructure were constructed with an efficiency that stunned the supernatural world.

Unlike the chaotic and intuitive magic of devils or the rigidly divine miracles of angels, True Alchemy was practical, logical, and reproducible. It became a cornerstone of humanity's independence, allowing them to control their environment with precision unmatched by supernatural counterparts.

Algorithmic Sorcery: The Convergence of Magic and Technology

Perhaps the most significant development during humanity's rise was Algorithmic Sorcery, a discipline born from the intersection of magic and technology. The invention of the computer—a human innovation with no supernatural influence—sparked a revolution in magical theory.

Runecraft, an ancient art that had long been dismissed as primitive, was reimagined in the context of modern computing. Runes became programmable constructs, each inscribed with instructions akin to lines of software code. Algorithmic Sorcery allowed humans to create adaptive enchantments, self-sustaining magical systems, and even sentient constructs.

Where Mathematical Magic optimized spellcraft and True Alchemy manipulated the physical world, Algorithmic Sorcery gave humanity a scalable, autonomous means of wielding power. Autonomous wards protected cities, enchanted machinery replaced labor, and magical constructs capable of independent thought began to challenge the supernatural's monopoly on innovation.

The Fallout for Supernatural Factions

For the devils, humanity's rise was nothing short of catastrophic. The extinction of three ancient Pillar Houses—eradicated during the Anathema's appearance in the Underworld—had already destabilized their society. The rise of human innovation compounded the damage.

The remaining families, once dominant and unchallenged, were forced to consolidate their power, their territories shrinking as humanity expanded. Contracts, once a cornerstone of devil influence, became rarer as humans learned to wield power without bargaining with infernal forces. Even devils who sought peaceful coexistence found themselves met with mistrust and defiance.

Angels and fallen fared no better. Humanity's unity rendered traditional manipulations ineffective, and their newfound tools outpaced divine miracles and Grigori experiments alike. The supernatural factions, accustomed to centuries of stagnation, struggled to adapt to humanity's rapid progress.

A New Order

Humanity's ascent was not merely a shift in power—it was a redefinition of their role in the world. Where once they had been prey, reliant on divine intervention or infernal bargains, they became something greater: a species capable of standing on its own, unbowed and unconquerable.

The rise of Mathematical Magic, True Alchemy, and Algorithmic Sorcery allowed humanity to outmaneuver the supernatural at every turn. What began as a whisper of potential became a roar of defiance. And at the center of it all, the Anathema remained a figure of awe and fear, his actions a constant reminder of what humanity could achieve.

Even centuries later, the scars of humanity's rise remain visible in the supernatural world. For devils, angels, and fallen alike, the question lingers: how does one combat a species that refuses to be ruled?

The answer, it seems, has yet to be found.

Lilith Academy Archives, Restricted Records, XXXXth Year of the Devil Calendar

Viktor Inox

My awakening was not slow—not the sluggish rise from a night's sleep, lethargic and disoriented.

One moment, I was asleep. The next, I was awake.

Opening my eyes, I found myself inside a throne room. A grand chamber stretched before me, its vastness emphasized by a crimson carpet laid from the entrance to the golden throne on which I now sat. Not gold, I realized. Auramite.

The same radiant, magical material lined the entire hall. It adorned the towering pillars, the intricate engravings on the curtains, and, I noted, the armor now encasing my body.

"Shit," I muttered under my breath, flexing my fingers and feeling the smooth, unyielding plates move with perfect precision. "Maybe I went overboard..."

The armor bore no technological components—no circuitry or mechanisms—but the sheer potential of its material made it an unparalleled canvas for runic inscriptions. A spark of excitement flickered in my mind at the possibilities, though it was quickly tempered by the weight of my situation.

A faint movement caught my eye. A tuft of black hair shifted near the throne. Leaning against the base of the seat was Raynare, her body slack, clearly asleep.

I stood, the sound of my movement startling her awake. She let out a yelp as the leg she'd been leaning on disappeared, scrambling to her feet.

"Ah—wait! You're awake!" she stammered, her wide eyes locking onto me.

I nodded, my voice calm but firm. "How long has it been?"

Raynare swallowed hard, clearly nervous, but she managed to reply, "It's been two days since you brought us… wherever this is. The city was left at the foot of the mountain—at the base of this peak." Her gaze darted around the throne room, taking in the grandeur with a mix of awe and unease. "This is where you appeared—a giant golden castle on the highest peak nearby."

I nodded again, processing her words. "And the people? How are they?"

Her hesitation was immediate. She glanced away before answering, her voice wavering. "I-I don't know?"

My brows furrowed, and I opened my mouth to press her further, but she quickly added, "They're healthy! They're fine! But…" Her voice trailed off as her nervousness grew.

"But what?" I pressed.

She gulped and continued in a rush, as if to get it all out before I could stop her. "They're all preaching your name. I had to fight off a mob that was trying to break into the throne room yesterday. Right now, they're standing at the gates, waiting for your awakening."

I blink, taking a moment to process the changes I feel. Closing my eyes, I focus inward, examining the new sensations.

Carved into my being, I sense channels, steady conduits that now draw energy from the Dimensional Gap, filling me with a constant flow of raw power. The process feels seamless, as if it had always been there, yet the energy is unmistakably foreign. Alongside this, there's a new awareness—a subtle supernatural charisma, not unlike the Emperor's, though far less potent. While it won't reshape reality as his could, it carries enough weight to naturally command attention and respect.

I also notice a faint but steady resistance to magic, something akin to a constant buffer. It's not absolute, but it's there—a small yet significant edge against the supernatural forces that might otherwise overwhelm me.

As I explore these changes, I understand something else: while I can wield the full strength of the Emperor as I did to erase the Astaroth ancestor, doing so would strain my body to its limits. This power, while accessible, is not sustainable for prolonged use—not yet. With time, effort, and the capabilities of Occultism, I might be able to integrate more of this potential, but such a task would likely span centuries of careful work.

Satisfied with my assessment, I open my eyes and glance at Raynare. She's watching me carefully, her posture rigid and her gaze uncertain.

"Well," I say, keeping my tone level, "let's go. I will meet the people and assuage their fears."

As I speak, I feel the weight of another realization settling in. My declaration in Alexandria—the force and conviction behind it—was not confined to that single moment. It spread far beyond the city, carried on some intangible current. I can sense its echoes, faint but present, brushing against the edges of the world. People, even those far removed from the events in Alexandria, felt its impact.

Here, in the present, I can also feel the people gathered outside the throne room. Their emotions ripple faintly through the air—a blend of fear, awe, and hope. They are waiting for me, uncertain but eager to understand the new reality they find themselves in.

I glance at Raynare again. "Bring them in," I say simply.

She hesitates. "All of them?"

"Yes," I reply with a nod. "They've come this far. It's only right I address them directly."

She lingers for a moment before nodding and turning toward the great doors.

I exhale, steadying myself. Whatever these people expect of me, I need to meet it head-on. They don't need grandeur or theatrics—they need answers, direction, and reassurance.

The sound of the massive doors opening echoes through the hall, and I straighten, my focus narrowing as the first of the crowd begins to filter in. They've come here looking for something, and I intend to give it to them.

Ibrahim ibn Harith

Before the golden light that changed everything, Alexandria was my world.

I had come to the city not for trade or wealth, but for knowledge. Here, in the libraries and observatories, I worked with other scholars to refine planetary models and translate ancient works into Arabic. The stars had always been my fascination, their distant light promising order and understanding in an otherwise chaotic world.

But the light that came that day was no star.

It erupted without warning, a golden column piercing the heavens. For a moment, all of Alexandria was still. People in the streets froze, their faces turned instinctively toward the source, even those who could not see it directly. I was no exception. The brightness, though blinding, carried no pain—only awe.

Then the voice came.

I do not know how to describe it. It was not in Arabic, Greek, or any tongue I have studied, yet I understood it as clearly as if it had been spoken in my mother's language. The words were undeniable, carried on a tide of power that swept through every corner of the city. They spoke of humanity's worth, of its strength, and of its right to stand unbowed.

When the light faded, everything had changed.

The Alexandria we knew was gone. The sands that once surrounded us had vanished, replaced by verdant fields, flowing rivers, and thick forests that stretched far beyond the horizon. The air was cooler, fresher, and the skies above—oh, the skies. The stars we had studied for so long were gone, replaced by constellations unfamiliar and strange, as if we had been placed under an entirely new heaven.

In the days that followed, confusion gripped the city. The people of the mosques were divided. Some proclaimed the light to be divine, the work of a new messiah sent to lead us into a new age. Others denounced it as the work of Shaitan, a trick to lead the faithful astray. And still others—shaken to their core by the words they had heard—abandoned their faith entirely, unable to reconcile their beliefs with the revelation they had experienced.

As for me and my fellow scholars, we debated endlessly. Was this divine? Infernal? Something beyond our comprehension? None of us could agree, but one thing became clear: we had to see him.

The golden castle had appeared atop the highest peak, a structure so vast and radiant that it seemed carved from the light itself. The climb was arduous, and as we approached the gates, we were met by a winged woman clad in dark robes, her expression sharp and unyielding.

Some of the more fervent among us tried to force their way inside, driven by fear or devotion. The woman moved swiftly, beating them back with precision that left no room for defiance. None were killed, but the message was clear.

That same woman came today, however. And opened the doors.

Now, as I stand within the throne room, my thoughts are consumed by the sight before me. The room is vast, its walls and pillars gleaming with a golden material that seems to pulse faintly, as though alive. A crimson carpet stretches toward the throne, where he stands.

The man. The voice.

He is not what I expected. Tall and clad in armor that gleams as if forged from the same material as the castle itself, he carries no crown, no scepter. His face is calm, his gaze sharp and direct, as though he sees each of us and weighs our worth in an instant.

He raises a hand, and the crowd stills. The whispers and murmurs that had filled the hall fall silent as we wait, breathless, for him to speak.

"People of Alexandria," he says, his voice steady and clear. It is not the overwhelming force of the revelation, but it carries the same unyielding conviction. "You have come seeking answers. Let me give them to you."

His words are simple, direct.

"You are no longer in the world you knew. This place, this land, it is a world under my rule. The light you saw was no trick, no deception. It was a declaration. A declaration that humanity will no longer be bound by those who call themselves gods, devils, or angels."

A ripple moves through the crowd, murmurs of shock and confusion breaking out.

"I am not here to take from you," he continues, his gaze unwavering. "I am not a god, nor do I claim to be. But I know what you are. I know what you can become. Humanity has been held in the shadows for too long. That ends now."

His words strike something deep within me, the same feeling I had when the light first came. It is not just hope—it is a call to action, a reminder of what we are capable of.

"The path ahead will not be easy," he says. "But it will be yours. Together, we will build a world where no one bows to powers that see us as less than what we are. Together, we will rise."

The room is silent, his words settling over us like a mantle. For a moment, I am no longer an astronomer, a mathematician, or a scholar. I am simply a man, standing before someone who sees the potential in all of us.

Around me, I see the same expressions on the faces of others—traders, craftsmen, farmers. For the first time, we are not divided by faith, by trade, or by intellect. We are united by his words, by the certainty that we are more than what the world had allowed us to be.

"I will answer any question you seek," the man proclaims, his voice calm and steady, yet carrying a weight that fills the grand hall. "If it is within my power, I will give you that knowledge."

His words hang in the air like the stillness before a storm, the crowd stirring as if his statement had unlocked something within them. My fingers brush the strap of my satchel, the astrolabe within grounding me as I watch the first figure step forward.

It is Layla bint Rashid. I recognize her from the past two days, her quiet but piercing questions during our debates marking her as a woman who values reason over superstition. Her reputation as the archivist of the Sultan's Library precedes her, and she carries herself with the poise of someone who has spent her life chasing truth.

"Is it true?" she asks, her voice clear despite the tension in the room. "What you said about beings who play with humanity? Do they truly exist?"

The man—the Revelation—turns his gaze to her. For a moment, I think he will chastise her for doubting, but instead, he raises a hand, and a shimmering light forms above his palm.

The light swirls and coalesces into an image that hovers in the air for all to see. There are figures within it—beings that resemble humans but are distinctly different. Some possess vast, feathered wings of radiant white, their forms shining with an unnatural glow. Others have leathery wings, their eyes burning with malevolence.

The crowd murmurs, many recoiling at the sight. Layla takes a step back, her expression a mixture of fear and awe.

"They exist," the man says, his voice even, resonating through the grand hall. "Angels, devils, and other beings that see humanity as a resource to be used, a game to be played. They are not gods, but they wield power beyond mortal comprehension. For centuries, they have interfered in your world, shaping it to their whims, treating humanity as pawns in their endless struggles."

He pauses, his gaze sweeping across the crowd. "And yes, there are beings you call gods. They exist, but they are no different. They demand your worship, not because they are worthy, but because they crave it. They do not seek to guide you—they seek to control you, to keep you dependent and afraid. Such beings are unworthy of humanity's reverence. Worship is not their right, and servitude is not your destiny."

The hall is silent, his words sinking into every corner. "Humanity's strength lies not in bowing to those who call themselves divine, but in standing unyielding. The potential within you is vast—greater than they would have you believe. And when united, you are not their tools. You are their equals."

A ripple of murmurs moves through the crowd, the weight of his declaration settling into the hearts of those who hear it.

He raises his other hand, and a ripple of energy moves through the room. I feel it as a faint warmth behind my eyes, and then—clarity. Images, knowledge, understanding flood my mind. I see angels descending upon battlefields, devils weaving pacts in the shadows, and humanity caught in between, unaware of the forces pulling their strings.

Gasps and murmurs fill the hall as others experience the same revelation. I glance at Layla, who clutches the edge of her robe, her sharp eyes wide with understanding.

Another voice rises above the murmurs, this one louder, more forceful. "And you?"

The speaker is Mansur al-Hamawi, the waqf administrator. His stout frame and commanding presence make him a familiar figure in Alexandria's public affairs. Over the past two days, he had been one of the louder skeptics among the crowd, questioning the motives of this man who had uprooted their lives.

Mansur steps forward, his tone laced with both accusation and curiosity. "You say you are not divine, yet what you have done—what we have seen—are the works of gods. Are you truly not one of them?"

The Revelation meets his gaze without hesitation. "I am not a god," he says firmly. "I am but a man, gifted with knowledge and power. Nothing more."

Mansur frowns, as though unsatisfied, but the Anathema continues before he can speak again.

"And these gifts," the man says, his voice rising slightly, "are not beyond your reach. Humanity has always had the potential for greatness, for power, but it has been suppressed—by fear, by ignorance, by those who wish to keep you weak."

He gestures, and a faint pulse of energy radiates outward. I feel it again, that warmth behind my eyes, and suddenly I understand. Magic. Its flows, its nature, its possibilities. I see the runes and sigils, the equations and the rituals. I understand how the world can be shaped, bent to the will of those with the knowledge and discipline to master it.

The crowd stirs as others receive the same knowledge, their expressions shifting from awe to something sharper—determination.

It is then that Marco da Ravenna steps forward. I had spoken with him only briefly, but his sharp wit and pragmatic demeanor left an impression. A Venetian merchant, he had been one of the few in our discussions to remain focused on practicalities.

He bows slightly, a gesture of respect rather than submission. "You say we can shape this world," he begins, his accent thick but his words deliberate. "But what of the one we left behind? My family remains in Venice. Can I return to them? Bring them here?"

The Revelation's expression softens, and for the first time, his tone carries a hint of warmth. "Yes. For those who do not wish to stay, I will return them to their homes. And for those who wish to bring their families here, they are welcome to this land. None will be forced to remain, but all are welcome to build a future with us."

A wave of relief crosses Marco's face, though it is quickly replaced by a calculating look, no doubt already planning the logistics of his family's relocation.

The room quiets again, the weight of the moment pressing down on all of us. I look at the Revelation, standing tall and resolute, and feel the faint warmth of his magic still lingering in my mind. The clarity it brings is intoxicating, a glimpse of what we could be.

I glance down at my satchel, at the astrolabe within, and grip the strap tightly. The stars above us may have changed, but the promise they held remains the same.

He has given us knowledge, unveiling what lies beyond the veil of ignorance. Now, it is up to us to rise to the challenge.

For ten days and nights, we remain in the palace, our questions flowing endlessly. The revelation waves his hand, and food appears when hunger strikes. With a touch to the floor, lines are drawn, and red lightning molds the earth beneath us.

From a mere stone, he conjures gold, explaining every step of the process, proving its possibility. Those among us who practice the mathematical arts are granted lessons in wielding magic directly—shaping the ethereal energy through the precision of awakened 'cores' and intricate calculations.

When the ten days are over and no one has further questions, we decide to return to Alexandria. Under my arm lies the 'paper' where Layla, the archivist, has meticulously recorded every moment of our time in the palace.

In my satchel rests a book, its cover gleaming with golden lettering: The Imperial Truth. Its value is undeniable after these ten days. The principle of human independence now burns in our hearts—a golden spark, waiting for the moment to ignite.

As we depart, I silently recite the ten commandments, etched forever in my soul:

Thou shalt place humanity above all else, for it is through human will and intellect that the cosmos shall be mastered.

Thou shalt reject all gods, devils, and supernatural beings, for they are parasites upon the strength of humanity.

Thou shalt revere knowledge, science, and reason, for only through understanding shall humanity ascend.

Thou shalt unify under the banner of mankind, forsaking all divisions of race, creed, and nation.

Thou shalt guard thy soul, for devils and gods seek to corrupt thy essence and enslave thy spirit.

Thou shalt toil for the betterment of thy kin, for only through collective effort shall humanity endure.

Thou shalt purge all inhuman influence, for devils, gods, and the like are abominations that threaten human sovereignty.

Thou shalt value strength of mind and body, for only through discipline and perseverance shall humanity triumph.

Thou shalt create and innovate, for through human invention shall the dominion of man expand.

Thou shalt not worship, kneel, or pray to any entity, for humanity is its own salvation.

For this revelation, I thank the Emperor of Mankind.

And thus, the first city of the Imperium is born. Through these ten commandments, humanity shall rise to claim what is theirs by right. No longer shall we cower before the inhuman or the unknowable. We were born to inherit the stars, and through our unity, our knowledge, and our will, we shall ascend to our rightful place among them.