Dxd: A demon Among Devils-Chapter 23: []:Devil’s

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He saw the gleaming tip heading for him, and for a split-second he was paralyzed with indecision. Then his instincts took over, and though they were dulled from months of disuse, he still managed to bring his blade up and parry the oncoming thrust.

"Good," the devil's voice was filled with approval, "Again."

This time it was an overhead chop, deceptive in its simplicity. Block it directly and his adversary's strength would fully smash into him and jar the sword from his hand. He rose to counter, but allowed his blade to tilt so when Kiba's came crashing down, it slid off at an angle.

The two swords squealed against each other before parting. His opponent gave him an amused glance.

"That is an unusual form."

Before he could reply Kiba moved to attack again, and suddenly he was beset by a whirlwind of precisely placed sword strokes that were so fast they appeared as blurs in his vision. He barely managed to keep up, falling back on his combat instincts to guide him as he struggled against the unrelenting assault. Eventually one had to give, and a sudden pain in his shoulder, told him it had been him. They both drew back, him wincing and Kiba smiling. He glanced to his side and saw the hole in his uniform, the place where the boy's blade had nicked.

"First blood to me," his opponent said.

He shook his head and pointed with his sword towards Kiba's own shoulder, and the devil followed his aim to where a slight gash had opened in the fabric of his shirt.

"A draw then," Kiba seemed impressed by that fact. He planted his blade into the ground and leaned on the hilt, "You are a lot better at this than I expected, Arisato-san. Tell me, who taught you?"

No one had. There had not exactly been weapon trainers in the Tower. What he knew, what he learned had been forged from hours spent combating Shadows on each floor. Fighting in life-threatening circumstances had made for good practice, and with each Shadow he killed he had gained experience in wielding a blade.

"I learned on the fly," he chose to answer.

"Must have been some difficult circumstances, then," the devil replied with a knowing smile. The boy took a moment to look at him, a thoughtful expression on his face, "If a pawn chose to try and terminate you, I believe they would be in for a nasty surprise. It is not often you see a Bishop that is so proficient in melee. But should you face a Rook or a Knight, you would still be in considerable trouble."

His eyebrows rose. He did not disbelieve the boy's words, but to say it with such certainty? It was almost akin to arrogance.

Kiba noticed the change in his demeanor and chuckled.

"I will show you what I mean."

And then he promptly vanished. It took him a moment to realize the devil had accelerated from rest so fast that his eyes had led him into thinking he had disappeared. It took another moment to process that such speed should be impossible, yet he had been witness to it. The sword tip at his throat further reinforced the fact. Except it wasn't a sword anymore. He glanced sideways towards the smiling Kiba who had appeared behind him in the time it took him to blink. And then his gaze dropped down to the weapon the devil had summoned and held to his neck. It was an ugly, serrated thing of greenish steel, glowing with eerie light. There was a dark and ominous presence to it too, and he could almost feel the malevolence that lay beneath the blade's surface.

"Yield?"

He nodded and the boy withdrew the weapon from his throat.

"It is a demon sword," Kiba explained, "That is what my Sacred Gear is. Sword Birth. The ability to create and use demon swords."

The sword-user stepped back and spread his arms wide. In response, half a dozen blades materialized around him, orbiting slowly around his body, each as different and varied as the last.

"Every demon sword has a unique property," the devil said good-naturedly, "Some of them are like your Personas. They can set alight enemies when swung or freeze them when they connect. Others are different and they can strengthen their wielder in various ways. And that is why Knights and Rooks are so dangerous. Knights, more so. They have Sacred Gears comparable to mine, as well as the speed to catch you unawares. If they manage to get you within melee range, they will not hesitate to put you down."

He nodded again, this time in understanding. It was sound advice, and graciously given. He could appreciate that. But there were some things Kiba had assumed of him, had presumed of him, that were simply untrue. His rank as a Bishop and his helplessness against Knights chief among them.

"This sword," he lifted his blade by the hilt, "You do not need it anymore?"

Kiba looked at him strangely.

"It is a spare. Why?"

He did not reply. Already he was reaching into his mind, calling out to the myriad of consciences linked to his own, offering the blade in his hand as a medium. They hesitated. He did not blame them. Sword Fusion required the sacrifice of a Persona, the loss of a manifestation to be effective, and the rewards were not always great. In many cases the manifestation itself was far more powerful than the weapon that was created. That, and the Personas themselves took issue with it. The human mind was a sea of unlimited vastness, an ocean of limitless boundaries, with plenty of space for thoughts to drift. The confined area of a Nihil weapon was in comparison an iron box, surrounded by hard limitations with barely the room to move, and Personas, beings that were forged from endless potential, abhorred being imprisoned in such a manner.

The only consolation that he could offer them was the sword itself. It was made of normal steel, and did not possess the innate properties of a Nihil weapon. That meant it could not hold the power of a Persona for long before its very structure started breaking down. A temporary vessel, inferior and substandard, yet suitable for the purpose at hand. The only trick was persuading a Persona to enter the blade and so far, none had been willing.

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