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

Chapter 7

Saif al-Din

It has been a month and some change since Alexandria was taken into this strange new world. Much has happened during that time, though in truth, I am still piecing together the enormity of it all.

As captain of the city guard, I had expected chaos. I braced myself for panic, riots, and the breakdown of order. Yet, to my amazement, none of that has come to pass. The people, though wary and confused, have not turned to despair. They move cautiously but with purpose, their spirits steadied by the presence of the Revelation's light. It has a calming effect, one that lingers even now.

The guards and soldiers under my command have found themselves with little to do, save for routine patrols and maintaining a watchful eye. I suppose this newfound peace should be a relief, yet it only deepens my wariness. I know too well that quiet can be a prelude to chaos.

I patrol the docks personally, as I have always done, though the waters that now lap against Alexandria's piers are unfamiliar. No longer do I see the shimmering blue of the Mediterranean—this new ocean is something else entirely, its depths an azure color so vivid it borders on unnatural. The stars above, too, are foreign, an entirely new tapestry painted across the night sky.

The people whisper of these things, of course, but their murmurs always return to the Revelation. They speak of the golden light that stopped the world, of the words they heard in their hearts. Some call him a savior, others a usurper of divine authority. And then there are those who, like myself, remain watchful, withholding judgment.

For me, the Revelation is a man of many contradictions. He walks among us in disguise, blending into the crowd, yet his presence is unmistakable. I have crossed paths with him on more than one occasion, though never directly. The last time, I watched him from a distance as he helped an elder carry wheat through the marketplace. His movements were casual, his words unassuming, yet the crowd seemed to part for him instinctively, as if the air itself acknowledged his authority.

Still, a single question weighs on my mind: What does he truly want?

I have fought for this city my entire life. I served in the Sultan's army before taking up this post, and I have bled to protect Alexandria from raiders and invaders alike. I have buried my brother because of this duty. My vow has always been to safeguard its people, to ensure their safety no matter the cost.

But how does one defend a city that no longer resides in its world? How does one prepare for threats that defy understanding?

The Revelation has not issued any orders to the guard, nor has he sought to replace us. In fact, he seems content to let us continue as we always have. Yet, that only unsettles me more.

I return to my quarters after another quiet patrol, setting my blade against the wall. The weight of command never leaves my shoulders, but it is no heavier now than it has ever been. What troubles me is the weight of uncertainty.

As I am stirred awake the next morning, a sharp knock echoes from my door. Groaning softly, I rise from my bed, quickly dressing before pulling the door open.

Standing before me is Fatimah bint Tariq, one of my most trusted guards. Her sharp eyes meet mine as she stands at attention, saluting with the precision I've come to expect from her.

Fatimah is a rarity in the militia—a woman who rose through sheer skill and determination. After the death of her father, a fellow guard, she stepped into his post to support her younger siblings. It wasn't easy for her at first. She faced jeers and ridicule, but all of that ceased the day she bested several male guards in combat drills. Her mastery with the spear is unparalleled, and over the years, she's become a role model for resilience, earning the respect of all who serve beside her.

"Captain," she says, her tone steady, but there's an undercurrent of something I can't quite place. Excitement? Worry? "The Revelation has summoned us. He's called for 1,000 guards—by name. You are among them."

Her words give me pause. I study her face for a moment, but there is no hesitation, no sign of doubt. Whatever this summons entails, it's no idle request.

I nod slowly, the weight of the revelation—both the man and the summons—settling on my shoulders. "Very well. Gather those who were called. We will meet him together."

She salutes again, her expression resolute. "Yes, Captain."

As she turns to leave, I close the door behind me, already preparing for what lies ahead. This is no ordinary day, and whatever awaits us, I must ensure that my guards are ready.

In just half an hour, all of the summoned guards have assembled outside the gates of Alexandria. The gathering is a mix of seasoned veterans and fresh recruits, their faces reflecting a range of emotions—curiosity, apprehension, and determination.

I glance over the lines of men and women, noting the diversity among them. Some are hardened warriors with scars marking years of service. Others are younger, barely more than boys and girls, still green with the optimism of inexperience. Among them are a few who bear the marks of sacrifice—crippled limbs, missing eyes, yet still standing tall with a resolve that speaks volumes of their dedication.

The atmosphere is heavy, charged with anticipation, as we wait.

Before us stands the Revelation, his form radiating an almost otherworldly presence. He is clad in golden armor that shimmers with an unnatural light, each facet catching the sun and casting reflections that seem alive. The armor is unlike anything I have ever seen, a masterpiece beyond mortal craftsmanship. Upon its surface are inscriptions—intricate writings that, from my visits to the apostles, I have come to recognize as runes. They hum faintly with power, as though the armor itself is alive, a sentinel of divine energy.

He stands silently, his golden helmet held at his side, his gaze sweeping over us. The weight of his presence alone is enough to still the murmurs of the crowd. The last of the summoned guards take their places in the line, and as the final steps fall silent, the Revelation begins to speak.

"You have been called here by name," he says, his voice steady, resonating with authority and conviction. It carries effortlessly across the assembled, reaching even those at the very back. "Each of you represents a pillar of this city—its defenders, its protectors, its strength."

He takes a step forward, the golden plates of his armor gleaming in the light. "I have watched you. I have seen your courage, your sacrifice, and your determination to preserve this city and its people. You have stood in the face of danger, not because it was easy, but because it was necessary."

His gaze moves over the gathered guards, pausing briefly on those who bear visible injuries—the amputees, the scarred, those who have paid the price of service. "Among you are those who have given much, sometimes more than should ever be asked of a person. Yet here you stand, unwavering, ready to serve again."

He straightens, his voice gaining strength. "Alexandria is more than a city. It is a beacon, a cradle of humanity's resilience and ingenuity. But for it to thrive, it needs guardians—those willing to rise above fear and doubt, to stand against forces that would seek to tear it down."

He pauses, letting his words settle over us like the weight of an oath. "You were not chosen lightly. Each of you has a role to play in what comes next. You are not just soldiers or guards; you are the shield and the spear of what is to become humanity's jewel. Together, you will forge its future."

He closes his eyes, his expression calm yet resolute, and speaks in a voice that carries both power and conviction.

"I ask you this: will you pledge yourselves to me? Will you pledge yourselves to humanity?"

He opens his eyes, and his gaze seems to pierce through each of us, reaching something deep within. His presence is overwhelming, yet not oppressive—a force that invites rather than compels.

"If you do," he continues, his tone rising, infused with purpose, "then I swear to you this:

You shall be my finest warriors, the men and women who give of yourselves to me and to the cause of humanity. Like clay, I shall mold you, and in the furnace of war, I shall forge you. You shall be of iron will and steely sinew, unyielding in the face of any foe.

In great armor, I shall clad you, and with the mightiest weapons, you shall be armed. You will be untouched by plague or disease; no sickness shall blight you. You shall master such tactics, strategies, and machines that no enemy will ever best you in battle.

You will stand as my bulwark against the Terror, the shield and the sword of humanity. You will be the Defenders of Humanity, the hope of a fractured race.

You shall be my Sentinels, the guardians of our future. And you shall know no fear."

The silence that follows his words is profound, as if the very air itself has stilled to bear witness.

Around me, I see faces hardening with resolve, eyes alight with purpose. The young, the scarred, even the wounded—all seem to stand taller, their breaths steadier. His words do not merely command; they inspire, filling each of us with a sense of belonging, of destiny.

In that moment, the gravity of the pledge is clear. To pledge oneself to him is not simply to swear loyalty—it is to dedicate every fiber of one's being to the defense of humanity itself.

As I look upon the Revelation, standing radiant in his golden armor, I feel a strange certainty settle within me. Whatever trials may come, whatever battles lie ahead, this man—this force—will lead us. And we, the Sentinels of Alexandria, will follow.

It has been fifteen days—fifteen days since we swore ourselves to the Revelation.

At least, that is what it has been on the outside.

Where we, the thousand Sentinels, reside now is a vast chamber carved into the heart of a mountain. The space is nothing short of awe-inspiring. The entire mountain has been hollowed out, its surfaces etched with glowing runes of immense power. Like stars scattered across the night sky, these sigils gleam on the ceiling, filling the chamber with an ethereal light that seems to pulse with life.

Here, time flows differently. Though only fifteen days have passed outside, we have spent ten years within these walls. For ten years, we have toiled. For ten years, we have trained, forged into something far beyond what we once were.

Our bodies, once fragile and vulnerable to sickness and disease, now carry barely restrained power. Each of us has been reshaped, reforged. The men among us have grown into titans, our arms thick with muscles as solid as iron, our strength enough to shatter stone. The women, our sisters in arms, possess a flexibility and agility unmatched, their movements a blend of grace and lethal precision.

Our brothers… our sisters. We are no longer merely comrades—we are a family, bound not just by oath but by blood.

The blood of the Revelation himself.

Each of us underwent his ritual, a transformation that forever altered us. And in that ritual, he bled for us all. Drop by drop, his blood flowed into each of us, its power infusing our very essence. It granted us strength unmatched, resilience that defies comprehension, and a will so unyielding that even the passage of eternity could not bend us.

During these ten years, we have learned much.

The Revelation began by shaping us through the strength of our physical bodies. Our steely muscles, already enhanced by the first ritual, were pushed to their absolute peak. He drilled us relentlessly, teaching us the arts of combat—how to strike with our bare hands and wield weapons with unmatched precision. He did not stop there. He trained us not only as soldiers but as generals, sharpening our minds to see the battlefield with clarity and to anticipate every move of the enemy. No detail, no possibility, would escape our sight.

Once our bodies and minds were honed, he turned his attention to the mystical. Each of us underwent a second ritual, a transformation even greater than the first. This ritual created cores within our very being—unbreakable vessels tethered to our souls, capable of housing and channeling the raw power of magic itself.

He taught us the nature of these cores, how they are instruments of unparalleled potential. He showed us how to wield them, blending the understanding of science and mystery into a single cohesive art. Where once many of us had been illiterate, unable to read even the simplest of texts, now each and every one of us is more learned than the wisest of kings.

He did not stop there. The Revelation taught us how to craft, to forge, and to create. Under his instruction, we became master blacksmiths, capable of shaping blades and armor that would leave even the most skilled artisans awestruck. He then taught us how to enchant these creations, imbuing them with magic so powerful that the resulting weapons and armors would be priceless treasures, too valuable for even the richest merchants to possess.

After years of studying the magical arts, he turned once more to training our bodies. This time, he taught us the art of Touki, the very energy of life itself. We learned to harness this energy, refining it into a weapon, a shield, and a tool of endurance. Those among us with a greater affinity for nature were given further lessons in Senjutsu, the ancient art of manipulating life force and soul. Under his guidance, they learned to feel the flow of life around them, to bend it to their will and wield it as effortlessly as breathing.

We are no longer what we once were. Our bodies, our minds, and our spirits have been reforged. Every ounce of ignorance has been stripped away, replaced with knowledge and skill that rival the legends of old. We have become the pinnacle of humanity's potential, the guardians of its future.

That, however, is not all we did for ten years.

The Revelation taught us not only how to fight and grow stronger, but also the importance of living fully. "Move well, study well, play well, eat well, rest well," he said, "for that is the way of man toward transcendence."

Many among us turned to the arts, painting pictures so vivid they seemed almost alive. Our newly dexterous hands moved across canvas with a grace and precision akin to waves caressing the shore. With every stroke, our creativity flourished, and the beauty of the world, both real and imagined, found form in our work.

Others were drawn to the art of thought, engaging in debates on philosophy and the nature of existence like the great thinkers of old. Our minds, sharpened by years of training, sought meaning as well as truth. Conversations stretched long into the night, exploring the intricacies of humanity, purpose, and the universe itself.

Some among us pursued invention, crafting contraptions that grew more intricate with each attempt. Our newfound knowledge and skills sparked a fire of innovation within our hearts. The desire to create, to improve, and to push the boundaries of what was possible became an obsession for many, a testament to humanity's limitless potential.

The Revelation, ever patient, took the time to guide each of us—one thousand souls, each known to him by name, story, and aspiration. He showed the painters sights and visages beyond the scope of imagination, their art growing richer with every vision. He debated philosophy with those who sought truth, his passion for the nature of man and the universe evident in every word. To the creators, he offered guidance and insight, showing them how to refine their craft and turn ideas into reality.

He was not simply a teacher or a leader—he was a shepherd of humanity's potential, nurturing every spark of brilliance within us. Through his guidance, we learned not only to survive but to thrive, to rise beyond what we once believed possible. In his light, we grew—not just as warriors, but as artists, thinkers, and innovators.

Now, as all one thousand of us stand in perfect rows before him, I cannot help but relive that moment from ten years ago—the day we swore ourselves to the Revelation.

I glance to my left and right, at the faces of my brothers and sisters, each one brimming with determination and potential. No longer do I see the frailty of before. Those who had been crippled, ailed by injuries or sickness, now stand hale and whole. Limbs once lost have been restored; sightless eyes have regrown. Every one of us has been made anew, transformed into something greater.

My gaze shifts forward, settling on the Revelation—the man known as Viktor Inox. His name lingers only in the quiet recesses of my mind, for to address him as such would feel like an insult, an act of shame.

As I look upon him now, I see far more than the man who first called us to his side. He is not just the one who chose to fight for humanity, nor merely the one destined to unite us against the darkness. He is a brother and a leader—a figure who inspires both reverence and trust.

I am ashamed to admit that, once, I harbored doubts about him. Before we began our training, my paranoia gnawed at the edges of my faith. I waited for the other shoe to drop, for the moment when he would reveal himself as a conqueror, demanding submission from the people of Alexandria.

But those fears have long since been banished. Over these ten years, I have come to know the man he truly is. A man who, by his own will, has chosen to shoulder the weight of humanity's fate—a burden so immense that none but he could carry it.

He has never demanded obedience, never asked for worship. Instead, he has offered guidance, strength, and hope. He has forged us into something more than warriors, more than guardians. He has given us a vision of humanity's future—a future of golden splendor that will make the gods themselves weep in envy.

As I stand here, I feel no shame in my devotion, no hesitation in my loyalty. I will never regret the pledge I made, nor will I ever waver in my faith.

For he is my Revelation. My Emperor.

My thoughts are interrupted as the last of our siblings take their places, and he steps forward to address us.

"It has been ten years," he begins, his voice calm yet resonant, carrying across the chamber with ease.

A wistful smile plays across his face, softening the unyielding presence of his golden armor. "Ten years since you swore yourselves to this sacred duty—to stand as guardians of humanity, to help it rise and gather its strength in the face of its enemies."

A ripple of gasps spreads through our ranks as he does something none of us expected—he bows deeply before us. The gesture is so profound, so filled with sincerity, that even those who had stood unwavering until now seem taken aback.

"I thank you," he says, his voice carrying the weight of genuine gratitude. "I thank you for your sacrifice."

Straightening, his gaze sweeps across us, meeting each of ours in turn. His words are deliberate, filled with purpose. "Your actions will shape the very fate of humanity—the fate of your brothers and sisters outside these walls. What you do here, what you have become, will be the foundation upon which our future is built."

His smile returns, warm and full of pride. "I am honored to have taught each and every one of you. I have watched you grow, struggle, and triumph. And I shall remain forever proud of the sacred duty you now carry."

As his words settle over us, I feel a surge of resolve ripple through our ranks. His gratitude, his belief in us—it is not something we will ever take lightly. We will carry his pride and his faith with us, no matter the trials ahead.

With a wave of his hand, crates materialize before each and every one of us, their metal surfaces gleaming faintly in the rune-lit chamber. His voice resonates through the silence as he speaks.

"These are my gifts to you," he says, his tone steady and filled with meaning. "This armor will shield you from those who would dare to oppose you. These weapons will fell any who stand in your way. I have forged them with care, and I hope they will serve you well."

As we move to open the crates, a golden glow spills forth, illuminating the chamber with a warm, radiant light. Inside, we find armor—crafted of Auramite, the legendary metal known for its unmatched resilience and luster. The surface of each piece is etched with intricate runes, their power unmistakable. There is only one man capable of such craftsmanship.

He has forged these tools for us, each and every one. One thousand warriors. One thousand sets of armor. One thousand spears.

In solemn reverence, we don the armor that will become our second skin, the shield under which we will fight and endure as the Sentinels. Piece by piece, it settles onto us, its weight comforting rather than cumbersome. The spears, elegant yet deadly, feel like extensions of our own bodies, perfectly balanced and humming faintly with latent power.

When all is done, we stand together as one, side by side. Our forms gleam in the golden light, each Sentinel clad in armor that shines like the sun, its glow complemented by the deep crimson of our capes and the proud crests of our helmets.

In this moment, we are transformed. No longer mere men and women. We are the Sentinels of humanity, the guardians of its future. And clad in this sacred armor, we are ready to fulfill the duty we have sworn to uphold.

We march as one, the sound of our armored steps echoing through the mountain's great halls, a steady rhythm to match the anticipation that burns within us. The place that has been our home for the last ten years fades into the background as we move forward, our eyes fixed on what lies ahead.

We emerge into the open air, the golden glow of our armor catching the sunlight as we descend from the mountain. The world before us feels vast, but our gaze is singular. We gather outside the gates of Alexandria, the very place where we first swore our duty to humanity.

The city stands proud, its people lining the streets and walls, gazing at us with awe and wonder. But our attention is drawn to the figure standing atop a raised platform before us—the Revelation.

He is different now. Gone is the warmth and mirth he once carried, replaced by a presence heavy with purpose. His golden armor reflects the sun's rays, his figure commanding and unyielding.

As silence falls over the gathered crowd, his voice rises, steady and unwavering, carrying the weight of a man who knows what must be done.

Viktor Inox

These last ten years have been nothing short of transformative. Within the confines of what is essentially a hyperbolic time chamber, I have trained one thousand individuals—not soldiers, but protectors.

Each of them was chosen with purpose. Each carried within them the spark and desire I sought, even when they were but ordinary men and women. Now, they stand before me as something far greater—people who have found purpose, who would willingly give their lives for the betterment of humanity.

The thought should bring a warm smile to my face, yet I find myself unable to muster it. The rage burning within me is too great, too consuming.

Over these ten years, I did not limit myself to merely teaching and training. I sought to improve myself as well, to deepen my understanding of the mystical. Among my endeavors was the study of divination, a discipline I had once overlooked. At first, my skill was rudimentary—enough to scry the location of a lost object or glimpse fragments of distant events. But over the years, my mastery grew. Now, I can peer into different dimensions entirely.

And that… is where the problem lies.

My curiosity led me to peer into hell. What I saw there made my blood boil, my very being crying out to reduce every infernal creature to ash.

I saw humans, enslaved by those vile devils, forced to toil endlessly in the bedrock of the underworld. I saw them used as playthings, treated with a cruelty that defies comprehension. Families were torn apart—husbands separated from wives, mothers from daughters, brothers from sisters. The torment was unrelenting, the suffering so vile that my soul itself seemed to burn with fury.

But anger, no matter how righteous, must be tempered. I knew then, as I know now, that I could not act rashly. Were I to storm hell alone in an attempt to free them, I would fail. There are simply too many, too much suffering for me to resolve on my own.

Now, however, as I stand upon this platform and gaze out at the field before me, I feel a flicker of hope. Before me stand one thousand champions, forged through discipline and purpose. Each of them now wields the power of an Ultimate-class being, augmented further by the armor and weapons I have crafted with the utmost precision and care.

Each one of them is capable of slaying beings on their level of power. In teams, they can challenge even devils of the Satan-class or angels of the Seraph-class.

Today, they are more than protectors. Today, they are humanity's first true line of defense—and offense—against the darkness that would consume us. And together, we will show the world what it means to fight for humanity's future.

I address them, my voice steady and deliberate. "My brothers and sisters, I have something to show you."

Focusing my will, I call upon Occultism, forging a connection to each of their minds. Through this link, I transmit everything I saw during my scrying into hell. I do not spare a single detail, for to do so would be an insult to their strength and resolve.

Every vile crime. Every desecration. Every act of torment. The defilement of the innocent. The murder of families. The unrelenting agony inflicted upon humanity. I show them all.

When the vision ends, silence reigns. None of them move, their discipline and will too strong to falter even in the face of such horrors. Yet I can feel it—a shared fire igniting within them. Each and every soul burns with righteous fury, their rage echoing my own.

I let the silence stretch for a moment before I speak again, my voice unwavering. "That, my brothers and sisters, is what I have seen happening as we speak."

Their expressions remain stoic, but the air around them hums with barely restrained anger. Their resolve is palpable, their determination a force unto itself.

I take a breath, my gaze sweeping over them, meeting their eyes. "I ask you all—will you follow me?"

Saif al-Din

"I ask you all—will you follow me?"

The words barely register as my mind unravels every memory the Revelation has bestowed upon us. I see vile horrors—torture and defilement, pain and suffering—and each one only feeds the pyre of my growing rage.

I am barely broken from my thoughts as the Revelation continues to speak:

"Stand with me, stand with your brothers and sisters, and together we will be undefeated.

The past is our faith, the present is our strength, and the future… the future is our birthright!

The path to a better tomorrow stretches out before us.

Toward a future that is golden and eternal.

But our journey together must cross a wilderness of hatred and bigotry.

A landscape of lies, seeded by the venom of our old enemy.

Our foe knows us; he fears us.

We shall cast them against the unbreakable rock of our collective will.

A people fit to stride the stars and shatter our enemies.

You are the embodiments of that glorious legacy, the inheritors of the victory that we fight for every day.

You alone are fit to forge the future and the destiny of our species.

My only goal to bring our people the absolute and deserved mastery of their destiny.

Each of you shares in the greatest glory of them all!

Ruthless to those who oppose us, masters of those we defeat, unflinching in the face of adversity."

My blood stills for a moment as I realize he is not simply addressing us, but the entirety of the people of Alexandria. On the walls, at the gates, on the rooftops of their homes—I see them, all reflecting the golden glow of the Revelation as he speaks.

"I pity—I pity—all those who were not born beneath our banner, for they will never know the touch of greatness as we do.

Would you make us lay down our swords and surrender our armor, stark naked before the force that wishes only death for us?

Beware the puppets among us! Know them, and spite them! Give them no succor or shelter!

Our arms never tire, and we have beaten back the foe.

Sent them… running!

But we will not tire, we will not falter, we will not fail! In the blood of our warriors comes the price we must pay.

Blood alone moves the wheels of history, and we will be resolute!

We will fear no sacrifice and surmount every difficulty to win our just triumph!

Our cradle, our homeworld—this invasion will not go unpunished. This criminal act unleashed the whirlwind of our wrath!"

With a wave of his hand, a golden rift parts space itself.

"For the greater good!"

As one, we follow our lord, marching together, hand in hand, toward hell.