High School DxD: The Lucifer's Devil Trigger — Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Singular Timeline and the White Castle

Levi’s strength had already crossed the threshold of the Satan-class.

To a human Magus, that was an abyss they could not even fathom, let alone hope to touch. In this world, only true Magicians—those who wielded True Magic—and elite Sacred Gear wielders possessed the raw output to threaten a Satan-class devil.

And the known Magicians among humanity were nowhere near Fuyuki City. Nor were there any renowned Sacred Gear wielders residing within its borders.

Grayfia naturally found no reason for concern. “Then, let us depart.”

Kuroka, Shirone, and Ingvild all knew Levi intended to take Sakura Tohsaka back to her childhood home for a final look. Understanding the gravity of the moment, the three girls offered no unnecessary chatter and quietly dispersed.

Grayfia escorted them away, leaving the area silent.

Levi turned his gaze to the purple-haired girl standing quietly beside him. “We should go too.”

Sakura looked down the paved street stretching out before her. The neighborhood felt intensely familiar, yet suffocatingly alien. Hearing his voice, she offered a small, fragile nod. “Mm.”

The Tohsaka family managed the spiritual leylines of Fuyuki City. The current head, Tohsaka Tokiomi, could hardly be considered a Magus of peerless talent, but through methodical, painfully steady maneuvering, he had pushed his lineage upward inch by inch. He played everything safe, ensuring every step was grounded before taking the next.

Levi mused over the man’s fate. If this world followed the standard trajectory of the Fourth and Fifth Holy Grail Wars, the family fortune Tokiomi had spent his entire life painstakingly accumulating would have been utterly squandered by his apprentice and his eldest daughter shortly after his death.

Yet, the calendar currently read 2004, and Tohsaka Tokiomi was still very much alive.

Cloaked in a high-tier demonic concealment spell, Levi and Sakura stood just outside the wrought-iron gates of the Tohsaka estate. Looking through the windows at the figure inside, Levi’s mind worked through the anomaly.

Had there been no Holy Grail War in Fuyuki City prior to this? Or had something fundamentally fractured during the Fourth?

Sakura stood motionless by his side. Through the glass, she watched her father, her mother, and her older sister gathered around the dining table. They were laughing. It was a picture-perfect scene of domestic harmony, completely devoid of the daughter they had given away.

Her small hands unconsciously drifted up, gripping the fabric over her chest.

Levi caught the micro-expression and shook his head, a quiet sigh escaping his lips. It was entirely understandable.

He knew the bitter taste of betrayal all too well. Thanks to his own father’s catastrophic decisions, Levi had been sold directly into the Underworld as a child, enduring ten grueling years as a slave. Standing on the doorstep of the people who were supposed to protect you, only to see they had completely erased your existence to live happily ever after—it was enough to make anyone’s blood run cold.

Levi clicked his tongue. A faint blue light shimmered in the air as he drew Yamato from his system inventory. His grip tightened on the hilt, fully prepared to shatter the Tohsaka gates and walk straight into their dining room.

But just before he could drop the concealment spell, a slight tug on his sleeve stopped him.

Levi paused, looking down. Sakura was clutching his coat. Tears streamed silently down her chin, catching the faint moonlight, yet her lips were curved into a breathtakingly beautiful smile.

“Lord Levi, this is enough,” she said, tilting her head up. Her voice trembled, but the resolve beneath it was absolute. “You don’t need to greet them for my sake.”

Levi frowned, his thumb resting on Yamato’s tsuba. “Are you sure this is enough?”

Sakura wiped the tears from her cheeks, her smile brightening into something genuine. “I am no longer the daughter of the Tohsaka family.” She paused, letting the heavy weight of the past slip off her shoulders. “I am a servant of the Lucifer Clan.”

“…Mm.”

Levi dismissed Yamato, the blade vanishing into blue particles, and reached out to pull the small girl into his arms. He felt the damp warmth as her tears soaked into his shirt, and he simply let her cry.

If she had made her choice, he would respect it. Making a clean break from this house was the best outcome she could ask for.

Just as the thought crossed his mind, Sakura suddenly gasped, her right hand clutching his arm. A fierce, crimson light flared to life on the back of her hand. Searing prana etched into her skin, slowly forming three sharp, interconnected geometric patterns.

“Lord Levi… what is this?” Sakura asked, staring at the glowing red marks.

She didn’t recognize it. But Levi did.

A cascade of lore flashed through his mind. As someone whose foundational knowledge of the Type-Moon universe began with these exact rituals, it was impossible to mistake.

A Command Spell.

“Grayfia, have the human Magi in Fuyuki City ever held any grand ceremonies before?”

After Sakura had finally shed the last of her lingering attachments, Levi brought her to the coastline to rendezvous with the rest of his peerage. Because her emotions were still raw, Kuroka and Shirone immediately flanked her, grabbing her hands and dragging her down the beach to distract her with the ocean breeze.

Watching Sakura finally laugh as the two nekomata sisters fussed over her, Levi turned his attention to his silver-haired maid.

“Lord Levi, the vast majority of devils look down on humanity,” Grayfia replied, her tone perfectly measured. “While there are anomalies like Magicians and Sacred Gear wielders, devils typically only monitor the human world when scouting for potential servants. In almost all cases, they exclusively target those with Sacred Gears.”

She bowed her head slightly. “As for the internal politics of the human Magus Association… those matters are handled by specialized devil factions. If you are referring to a ceremony that devils might consider too small-scale to monitor, I will need to conduct a targeted investigation.”

Levi nodded, granting her permission. Grayfia stepped away, her fingers glowing with a faint magical array as she communicated with her intelligence network.

When she returned a short while later, her posture remained immaculate.

“Lord Levi, this city has never hosted a large-scale magical ceremony. However, our contacts embedded near the Magus Association have forwarded an interesting rumor. Fuyuki City is preparing to host what the Association considers a ‘highly absurd’ ritual.”

Grayfia’s eyes narrowed slightly. “It is purportedly a ceremony to summon a Holy Grail capable of granting any wish, followed by a deathmatch to claim it. I find the concept highly improbable, but the Lord of the Astronomy Faculty at the Clock Tower has taken a deep interest in it. Does this align with what you are looking for?”

Levi’s eyes gleamed with sudden realization. The first Holy Grail War in Fuyuki City.

It made perfect sense. By the time of the Fourth Holy Grail War, the Clock Tower still dismissed the Fuyuki ritual as a backwater farce cobbled together by degenerate Far East Magi. No respectable Lord would have ever dignified it with their presence, let alone during its inaugural run.

But Levi knew the truth. The Holy Grail wasn’t some all-powerful wish-granting machine—it was a localized mechanism designed to reach the Root via the Third Magic, Heaven’s Feel.

And the Third Magic offered exactly what Levi desperately needed: the materialization of the soul, granting limitless magical energy.

If the Clock Tower was ignoring it, all the better. He could sweep the board, claim the Third Magic, and permanently solve his greatest bottleneck.

But the mention of that specific Lord gave him pause. Kayneth El-Melloi Archibald was the Lord of the Mineralogy Faculty, not Astronomy.

“Wait, Grayfia. Which faculty’s Lord did you say?”

“The Astronomy Faculty.”

The Astronomy Faculty. The year 2004.

Levi’s breath hitched slightly. Marisbury Animusphere.

This wasn’t the standard Fate/stay night timeline. This was the singular anomaly Waver Velvet had documented—the timeline of the Grand Order. The only Holy Grail War that actually mattered in that continuity.

And if Marisbury was here… that meant the Grand Caster, Solomon, would be summoned.

The Holy Grail War was a brutal magical ritual where seven Magi, marked by Command Spells, summoned seven Heroic Spirits to slaughter each other for the chalice. In the original timelines, the Magi had turned the ritual into a cesspool of cheating and backstabbing. The overseers themselves would assassinate Masters just to rig the board.

“Grayfia, how familiar are you with the name Solomon?” Levi asked, glancing back at her as they walked along the shoreline.

She blinked, momentarily surprised by the sudden shift in topic, but answered without hesitation.

“Solomon is history’s most renowned demonologist. Despite being human, his existence held immense weight with both Heaven and the Underworld. He is the only demonologist to ever receive the blessing of angels, and conversely, the only caster aligned with Heaven that the devil factions ever respected.”

Grayfia’s tone carried a rare note of genuine acknowledgment. “Unlike the human Magus lineages that later tried to imitate his craft, Solomon remains the only individual in recorded history capable of commanding the 72 Pillar Demon Gods through his own power. He is the absolute pinnacle of that discipline.”

Levi absorbed the information, nodding slowly. The High School DxD cosmology had smoothly fused with the Type-Moon framework. The devils of the Underworld predated Solomon by eons, yet the King of Magic’s ability to subjugate the 72 Pillars was a feat even the highest-ranking devils could not replicate.

Taking that power for himself sounded incredibly appealing.

“We have arrived,” Grayfia announced, cutting through his thoughts.

They stood at the dense edge of the Fuyuki outskirts. Before them loomed a pitch-black, oppressive forest, completely sealed off by an complex, multi-layered bounded field.

To a normal Magus, it was an impenetrable fortress. To Grayfia Lucifuge, it was barely a suggestion. She didn’t even break her stride, stepping straight through the barrier and shattering its magical structure like fragile glass.

Levi followed her into the freezing woods. Deep within the snow-dusted trees stood an imposing, pure white castle.

Inside the Einzbern stronghold, the atmosphere was suffocatingly cold.

Jubstacheit von Einzbern, the silver-haired patriarch, stared down at the woman before him. “The vessel for the Holy Grail War will be her.”

Irisviel von Einzbern stood across the grand hall, her delicate brows knitting together. “Do we need to procure another Master from the outside?”

“The original projection required you to complete the ceremony alone,” the old man stated, his voice devoid of any human warmth. “However, our current homunculus technology is insufficiently stable. If the conflict becomes a war of attrition, your physical functions will shut down. Allowing you to act as the Master carries an unacceptable margin of error.”

He spoke of her life as if analyzing a faulty piece of machinery. To Jubstacheit, Irisviel von Einzbern was nothing more than a disposable doll.

Her survival only mattered because her death would mean forfeiting the Holy Grail War. To the Einzberns, life was merely a sequence of alchemical formulas, a resource to be expended. They viewed their homunculi the same way a human might view a gemstone pendant or a carved statue—expensive, perhaps, but ultimately just objects.

Irisviel had spent her entire existence confined within these frozen walls. Deep down, a nascent spark of consciousness whispered that this ideology was fundamentally wrong, but she lacked the worldly context to articulate why. She was designed to accept this fate willingly.

“Relying on her as a Master is too dangerous, but entrusting the ritual to the outside trash is equally volatile,” Jubstacheit continued, before his eyes suddenly snapped toward the entrance. “Who goes there?!”

Before the patriarch’s voice even finished echoing, a dozen Einzbern combat homunculi materialized from the shadows, drawing their halberds and surrounding him and Irisviel. Every pair of artificial eyes locked onto the grand entrance.

CRASH.

The massive, reinforced iron doors of the white castle exploded inward, the heavy metal warping as it was violently kicked off its hinges.

Dust and frost swirled through the breached archway. A young man strolled into the heart of the Einzbern territory with the casual arrogance of someone walking into his own living room.

Levi rested Yamato against his shoulder, his crimson eyes sweeping over the ring of armed homunculi before landing on the old man. A sharp, mocking smile curved his lips.

“My name is Levi. Levi Lucifer.”