The forty-eight hours leading up to the Rating Game unfolded before Daniel not as a countdown, but as a wall he would have to climb with his fingernails. The occult clubroom was behind him, the echo of the challenge still vibrating in the air, but now, in the solitude of his room, Daniel faced the most elusive enemy he had ever known: his own inability to master the totality of his power.
He had defeated primordial gods. He had resisted the conceptual corruption of an entity that embodied the evil of all humanity. He had forged his body and spirit in crucibles of battle that would have broken anyone else. But the King's Haki was different. It wasn't a technique learned through repetition, nor a muscle strengthened by effort. It was the pure manifestation of the will to dominate, and will, by its very nature, resists being tamed.
"You're frustrated," Ddraig observed from the depths of the seal. His voice lacked the mocking tone of other days, carrying instead a seriousness that was almost paternal. "I can feel it. Your soul is as choppy as a sea in a storm."
"It's impossible not to be," Daniel replied out loud, his eyes fixed on the ceiling. He was lying on the bed, arms outstretched, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths that barely contained his anxiety. "I have two days. Two days to master something that most Haki users take years to control, if they even manage to awaken it at all. And there's no manual, no instructor, not a single damn marked path."
"King's Haki isn't trained like Armament or Observation," Ddraig confirmed. "It's a reflection of the spirit. You can't do push-ups to become more charismatic, kid. There are no weights for the soul."
"That's what worries me," Daniel murmured, closing his eyes. "In all my previous battles, King's Haki activated instinctively. Against Nyx, when I felt myself being dragged into eternal darkness and I knew that if I fell, I'd never see Yasaka, Kunou, or any of them again. Against Angra Mainyu, when its corruption threatened to stain the souls of everyone. Each time it was a visceral reaction, a scream of absolute refusal. But now I need to summon it at will, coldly, deliberately. And every time I try to force it, it's like trying to grab water with my hands."
The dragon was silent for a moment. When he spoke again, his voice was deeper, as if he were carefully weighing each word.
"Let me ask you something, Daniel. Why do you need to control it? Not to defeat Riser. You and I both know you can crush that arrogant peacock even if you fight with one hand tied behind your back."
Daniel opened his eyes. The question had hit its mark.
"It's not because of Riser," he admitted. "It's because of what comes after. It's because of Kokabiel, hiding in the shadows, who knows I'm a threat. It's because of the nobles of the Underworld who will watch this Rating Game and decide whether I'm someone they should respect or eliminate. It's because of Rias, Sona, all of them. I want them to look at Daniel Hernandez and not see a lucky human who got his hands on borrowed power. I want them to see a King."
"Then the problem isn't the Haki. The problem is that you're trying to convince yourself that you deserve to be one."
The phrase landed like a hammer. Daniel didn't respond. He couldn't.
The first day of training was a catalog of failures.
He started with what he knew: trying to replicate the conditions of his battles. He stood in front of the mirror and tried to evoke the fury he had felt when Nyx tried to snatch away his future. Nothing. He tried to recall the despair of watching Tamamo struggle against a shadow of Angra Mainyu. He got a faint tingle at the nape of his neck, nothing more. He tried to imagine Riser touching Rias against her will, and the room trembled for an instant—the objects on his desk vibrated, a tiny crack appeared in the mirror—but the energy dissipated before he could contain it, a lightning bolt slipping through his fingers.
"Damn it," he hissed, punching the wall with his fist. He didn't use Armament Haki. The plaster caved under his knuckles, leaving a dent. The physical pain was a relief, at least it was something he could control.
He went out to the backyard, where the twins were training. Hikari and Hibiki, upon seeing him, stopped their electrical coordination practice and ran towards him, their blue and pink ponytails bouncing with youthful energy.
"Daniel-sama!" Hikari exclaimed, her eyes shining. "Are you done with your meditation already?"
"I need your help," he said, without preamble. "Attack me. With everything."
The twins exchanged a glance. Hibiki frowned.
"With everything, everything? But last time we used our maximum discharge, your clothes were in tatters and the dojo smelled like ozone for hours."
"With everything," Daniel repeated, his voice lacking its usual warmth.
They obeyed. And for the next twenty minutes, Daniel was subjected to an electrical bombardment that would have cooked any middle-class demon alive. He dodged, blocked, absorbed impacts. His Armament Haki shone like a scarlet armor, resisting the currents. But the King's Haki remained asleep. It didn't even poke its head out.
"Enough!" he finally yelled, and the twins stopped immediately, panting from the effort. Daniel fell to his knees on the scorched grass, his fists buried in the earth. "Enough. Thank you. For now."
Hikari approached timidly, kneeling beside him.
"Daniel-sama... what exactly are you trying to awaken?"
He didn't answer. He didn't know how to explain it.
Later, it was Tamamo who found him in the garden, sitting in silence as the sun began to set. The great kitsune, still in her spiritual form, partially materialized beside him, enough for her ethereal weight to slightly depress the grass.
"My husband," she said softly, her voice was silk in his mind. "Your frustration is like a storm cloud. I can smell it."
"I can't control it," Daniel confessed, defeat coloring his words. "It's like my own power refuses to obey me."
"Perhaps it's not that it refuses," she murmured, resting her head on his shoulder. "Perhaps it's that you haven't yet understood what exactly it is you're asking for. The power of a king is not a whip to flog enemies with. It is a crown. And crowns are not seized. They are accepted."
Daniel looked at her, his eyes searching for answers in the deep golden abysses of hers.
"And how do I accept something when I don't know what it is?"
Tamamo smiled, a sad and wise smile.
"That, my love, is something only you can discover."
That night, Daniel barely slept. He tossed and turned in bed, his mind a whirlwind of fragmented thoughts. He remembered Ddraig's words, the question that had hung in the air like an accusation: Why do you think you don't deserve to be king?
It wasn't that he didn't believe it. It was more complex. He had arrived in this world as a foreigner, a displaced soul who had received borrowed power from a legendary dragon and borrowed affection from women who, for some reason, had decided to love him. What right did he, Daniel Hernandez, an exchange student of unknown origin, have to claim the title of king? What had he done to deserve it, other than being in the right place at the right time?
"You still don't get it, do you?"
Ddraig's voice pulled him from his self-destructive spiral.
"King's Haki isn't given out as a reward for merit. It's not a trophy you earn after accumulating enough victories. It's the manifestation of an intrinsic quality. You don't ask yourself if you deserve to have two arms or two legs. You have them because you're human. King's Haki is no different. You have it because you are YOU. The only question is whether you're willing to accept that part of yourself."
"But if I can't control it, if I can't use it when I need it, what's the point?"
"It serves to make you forget the most important lesson," Ddraig replied, and there was a hint of impatience in his voice. "King's Haki isn't controlled with brute force. It is controlled with conviction. You don't need to master your power, Daniel. You need to master your fears."
"My fears?"
"Fear of not being enough. Fear of having those you love taken from you. Fear that, in the end, all of this will be a dream you'll wake up from, alone in your original world. That fear paralyzes you more than any enemy. And as long as it remains, festering in your soul, the King's Haki will resist serving you. Because it is the power of absolute certainty. And you, Daniel Hernandez, are not yet certain of anything."
The silence that followed was more eloquent than any scream.
When he finally closed his eyes, it wasn't the darkness of sleep that received him, but a crimson radiance.
Daniel found himself standing in a place that was nowhere. Around him, an infinite void stretched in all directions, dotted with sparks of scarlet light that danced like dying stars. The ground beneath his feet was solid but translucent, like a sheet of red crystal over an abyss of flames.
"Welcome to your inner space, boy," resonated a voice that was not just sound, but a vibration in every cell of his being.
Daniel turned.
In front of him, emerging from the depths of the crimson void, appeared Ddraig. It was not the incorporeal presence that usually inhabited his mind. It was him in all his magnificence: scales red as liquid rubies, eyes gold as miniature suns, membranous wings unfurling like the cloaks of a forgotten emperor. Even reduced to a form he could perceive, the Red Dragon of Supremacy radiated a power that made the space around him tremble.
"Ddraig..." Daniel whispered.
"I have been waiting for this moment," said the dragon, and his voice was a distant thunder. "Since I chose you, since our souls intertwined, I have watched your growth with amazement. You have exceeded all my expectations. But there is one final threshold you must cross, and only you can do it."
Daniel swallowed hard.
"Teach me."
Ddraig tilted his head, his golden eyes scrutinizing his bearer's soul.
"There is nothing to teach. Here, in the space of your soul, there are no techniques to memorize, no movements to practice. There is only one question you must answer, and you must answer it with absolute honesty. Because here, lies do not exist."
Daniel felt the weight of the dragon's gaze like a mountain on his shoulders.
"Ask."
Ddraig leaned forward, his snout inches from Daniel's face.
"Why do you fight?"
The question pierced his chest like a spear of light. Daniel opened his mouth, ready to give the automatic answer, the one he had rehearsed a thousand times in his mind.
For my girlfriends. For my friends. For Rias. For the people I want to protect.
But the words wouldn't come out. Because in this place, in the absolute intimacy of his own soul, rehearsed answers sounded hollow.
Ddraig waited. The silence stretched like an abyss.
"I don't know," Daniel finally confessed, and the honesty of his own words burned his throat. "I thought I did. I thought it was to protect those I love. But then, why do I feel like it's not enough? Why, when I defeat an enemy, am I already thinking about the next one? Why, when I manage to control one ability, am I already obsessed with the next one?"
"Because protection is not a destination, it is a path," Ddraig replied. "And paths have no end. There will always be someone else to protect, another threat to face. If your only motivation is defense, you will never stop chasing a horizon that constantly recedes."
"Then, what else is there?" Daniel's voice was almost a plea.
Ddraig extended a claw, pointing at the void around them.
"Look. This is your soul. What do you see?"
Daniel observed. He saw the scarlet sparks, the flashes of light. He saw, among them, brighter fragments, more intense. Drawing closer, he recognized shapes: the silhouette of Yasaka smiling, Kunou's crystalline laughter, Asia's shy tenderness, Reynare's fierce loyalty, Sakura's serenity, Tamamo's playful wisdom, Sona's calculating strategy, Hikari and Hibiki's inexhaustible energy. And also, fainter but equally present, the outlines of a relieved Rias, a curious Akeno, an analytical Grayfia.
"They are them," Daniel murmured. "My bonds."
"No," Ddraig corrected. "Those are not your bonds. That is you."
Daniel turned to the dragon, confused.
"A man is not an island, Daniel. He is the sum of all the people he has loved, who have loved him, who have left a mark on his soul. Those are not possessions you fear losing. They are extensions of your own being. When you say you want to protect them, you are not defending something external. You are defending a fundamental part of yourself."
The dragon took a step forward, his presence overwhelming.
"And when you ask yourself if you deserve to be king, you are asking yourself if you deserve to be the master of your own destiny. Because that is what King's Haki truly means: the ability to impose your will upon reality. Not to dominate others, but to refuse to be dominated. To declare, with every fiber of your being: I am the master of my soul, the captain of my fate."
Daniel felt something break inside him. It wasn't a barrier, it was a chain. A chain he had forged himself with years of doubt, of insecurities dragged from his previous life, of the unconscious belief that his power was borrowed, his place in this world an accident, the love of his women an undeserved blessing.
"But I... I didn't ask for this," he whispered. "I didn't ask for the Boosted Gear. I didn't ask to come to this world. I didn't ask for all of them to love me."
"And does that matter?" Ddraig asked. "Does it matter how you got here? The only thing that matters is what you do now that you are here. Will you reject the power you've been given out of misplaced pride? Will you reject the love offered to you because you think you don't deserve it? Or will you accept everything you are, everything you have, and become the man this world needs you to be?"
Daniel looked at his hands. In the space of the soul, they weren't the hands of a warrior, covered in calluses and scars. They were his original hands, from his past life, the ones that had held a video game controller and flipped through the pages of light novels. Hands that had never imagined they would one day hold the fate of a universe.
"I'm afraid," he admitted. "Afraid of not being up to it. Afraid that one day, all of this will disappear. Afraid that, when I need it most, my power will fail me."
Ddraig tilted his head, and for the first time, his expression softened.
"Good. That's a start."
"How?"
"Fear is not your enemy, Daniel. Fear is a thermometer. It tells you what you value most. The problem isn't being afraid. The problem is letting fear paralyze you. A king isn't someone who doesn't feel fear. A king is someone who feels fear and acts anyway."
Daniel closed his eyes. In the darkness of his eyelids, he saw the faces of all of them. Yasaka, strong and dignified, entrusting him not only with her heart, but with the future of her daughter. Asia, innocent and pure, finding in him a refuge after years of abandonment. Reynare, reborn from the ashes of her own darkness, learning to be loved. Tamamo, waiting a thousand years for someone who would look at her as an equal. Sona, finding on a chessboard a partner who challenged her mind. Hikari and Hibiki, offering him their unconditional loyalty. Sakura, healing her wounds in the warmth of his presence.
And Rias. Rias, who had come to him in her most vulnerable moment, willing to give him the most precious thing she had, not out of love, but out of desperation. And he had refused her. Not because he didn't desire her—God, how he desired her—but because she deserved more than to be a desperate solution. She deserved to be loved for who she was, not for what she could offer.
"I don't want to be a king who rules," Daniel said, opening his eyes. "I want to be a king who protects. I don't want to dominate wills, I want to inspire them. I don't want them to fear me, I want them to trust me."
Ddraig smiled. It was a fierce, proud smile, the smile of a dragon who had seen a thousand kings fall and had finally found one worthy of carrying his legacy.
"Then you already have your answer."
Daniel felt something shift inside him. It wasn't an explosion of power, nor a sudden awakening. It was subtler, deeper. Like a muscle that had been dormant his entire life finally stretching, testing its strength.
"King's Haki..." he murmured.
"Now you understand it," Ddraig confirmed. "It's not a weapon. It's a declaration of principles. It doesn't activate with anger or despair. It activates with certainty. And you, Daniel Hernandez, have finally found yours."
Daniel nodded. There was no triumph in his gaze, only a new calm, a serenity he had never known before.
"Thank you, Ddraig."
"Don't thank me," the dragon grumbled, though his eyes shone with satisfaction. "You still have a lot of work ahead of you. Controlling King's Haki isn't something achieved in one night of introspection. But now you know what you're looking for. That is more important than any technique."
The space of the soul began to fade, the edges of the crimson void blurring like watercolor in the rain.
"Wake up, boy," Ddraig said, his voice receding. "You have thirty-six hours left. Use them wisely."
Daniel opened his eyes in his room. Dawn was filtering through the window, painting the ceiling in shades of orange and pink. For the first time in days, his mind was calm.
The second day was radically different from the first.
Daniel didn't try to force the King's Haki. He didn't seek to provoke it with intense emotions or replicate battle conditions. Instead, he simply... meditated.
But it wasn't the empty meditation of someone trying to think about nothing. It was an active meditation, a constant dialogue with his own spirit. He sat in the garden, under the cherry tree Tamamo had blessed with her magic, and let his thoughts flow without resistance. When frustration threatened to arise, he acknowledged it and let it pass. When impatience clawed at his chest, he observed it and let it go.
He learned to listen to the silence.
And in the silence, he began to perceive something new. It wasn't a voice or a presence, but a quality of the space around him. As if the very air became denser when he focused his will on a specific point. It wasn't King's Haki yet, it was its shadow, its echo. But it was a beginning.
His girlfriends, each in their own way, respected his need for space. Reynare brought him tea at regular intervals, leaving the cup by his side without a word, only a brief caress on his shoulder. Hikari and Hibiki trained in silence at the other end of the garden, their electrical discharges muffled by improvised barriers. Sakura sat a few meters away, reading quietly, her tranquil presence an anchor of serenity. Tamamo, in her spiritual form, watched from the branches of the cherry tree, her tail moving slowly like a metronome of patience.
Asia, the newest in the dynamic, was also the most anxious. She approached timidly during the afternoon, her shoes crunching on the grass.
"Daniel-sama?" she whispered, as if afraid of breaking a spell.
He opened his eyes. There was no irritation in his gaze, only a deep calm.
"What's wrong, Asia?"
She hesitated, twisting the edge of her skirt.
"It's just... we're all very worried. It's not that we don't trust you, it's just that... we've never seen you like this. So... distant."
Daniel smiled. It was a genuine, warm smile.
"I'm not distant, Asia. I'm just... learning to listen to myself."
She brightened a little, taking a step closer.
"And what do you tell yourself?"
The question, so simple and so profound, took him by surprise. He meditated on it before answering.
"It tells me I'm afraid," he confessed. "Afraid of not being enough. Afraid of losing you all. Afraid that one day, all of this will end and I'll wake up in my original world, alone."
Asia's eyes filled with tears. Not of sadness, but of an emotion she couldn't name.
"But that's not going to happen," she said, with a firmness that contrasted with her trembling voice. "Because we won't let it happen. I won't let it happen. You are my home, Daniel-sama. Without you, I'd just be an abandoned nun in a cold church. You gave me a place to belong. And I will never, ever let you feel alone."
Daniel looked at her, and for a moment, the weight in his chest lifted. He reached out his hand and she took it, intertwining her fingers with his.
"Thank you, Asia," he murmured. "That means more than you know."
She smiled, her tears finally rolling down her cheeks, but it was a radiant, pure smile.
"Always, Daniel-sama. Always."
That night, after a silent dinner—a comfortable silence, shared, not the tension of previous days—Daniel retired to his room. He didn't sleep. He sat on the floor, legs crossed, and let his consciousness expand.
His Observation Haki, always active, spread out like ripples in a pond. He sensed Reynare reading in the library, the twins sleeping embraced, Sakura meditating in her own room, Tamamo watching in her spiritual form. He sensed Asia, still awake, praying softly—not to God, but to him, asking for his success. He sensed Sona in her mansion, reviewing legal documents, preparing her tactical support. He sensed Rias in her residence, restless, nervous, waiting for news.
And he felt, for the first time clearly, the outline of his own will.
It wasn't a muscle he needed to flex. It was a muscle he needed to learn to relax.
"King's Haki," he whispered, not as a command, but as an invitation.
The air around him vibrated. It was subtle, almost imperceptible, like the flutter of a butterfly's wings. But it was real. A wave of energy expanded from his chest, slow and deliberate, not the uncontrolled explosion of his battles, but a steady, controlled flow.
It lasted no more than two seconds. But when the energy dissipated, Daniel smiled.
He had found the trigger. It wasn't anger. It wasn't despair. It was acceptance. The certainty of who he was and why he fought.
"Almost there," he murmured. "Almost there."
The forty-eight hours passed like a sigh.
The dawn of the third day found Daniel standing in front of his bedroom window, fully dressed in his Kuoh uniform—the most formal garment he owned, a symbol of his identity in this world. He wore no armor, no special equipment. Only the Boosted Gear, beating calmly on his left arm, and his will, sharper than any sword.
In the main hall of the mansion, all his girlfriends were waiting for him. Reynare had prepared a light breakfast that no one touched. Hikari and Hibiki were unusually still, their hands intertwined. Sakura maintained her serene expression, but her fingers drummed nervously on her lap. Tamamo, materialized in her semi-complete form, watched Daniel with a mixture of pride and worry. Asia's eyes were red from crying silently during the night.
"This isn't a goodbye," Daniel said, breaking the silence. "I'm just going to a fight. And I'm going to win."
"We know," Reynare replied, her voice firm despite everything. "It's not your ability we doubt. It's just that... it hurts not to be able to be there with you."
"I will be there," Tamamo intervened. "In spiritual form. No one but Daniel will be able to perceive me, but I will be."
"And I will too," added Sona, entering at that moment through the main door. The student council president was dressed in her formal demon attire, a deliberate decision to show the backing of the Sitri house. "Grayfia has granted me permission to attend as a neutral observer. I'll be able to see everything, and report the truth to those who need to hear it."
Daniel nodded, grateful.
The magic circle appeared exactly at eight in the morning. Silver, precise, emanating the cold authority of Grayfia Lucifuge. The most powerful maid of the Underworld emerged from the portal with her usual elegance, her uniform impeccable, her expression inscrutable.
"Daniel Hernandez," she said, her voice clear as ice. "It's time."
Her eyes scanned the scene: the gathered women, the palpable tension, the absolute devotion they all felt for this human. For an instant, something crossed her gaze—curiosity? Skepticism?—but it disappeared before it could be identified.
"Lady Grayfia," Daniel replied, with a respect that was not submission. "I am ready."
"Are you sure?" she asked, and there was a subtle challenge in her words. "You will be facing a high-ranking demon with centuries of experience and a full retinue. Alone. Human. Do you truly believe you can win?"
Daniel didn't flinch. He looked her directly in the eyes, and for the first time, Grayfia felt something unusual. It wasn't power emanating from him, not exactly. It was... conviction. An absolute certainty that needed no proof or external validation.
"I don't believe I can win," Daniel replied. "I know I will win."
Grayfia studied him for a moment longer. Then, almost imperceptibly, she nodded.
"Then, let's go."
Daniel turned to his girlfriends. One by one, their gazes met his. Reynare, fierce and loyal. Hikari and Hibiki, inseparable and devoted. Sakura, silent and steadfast. Tamamo, wise and loving. Asia, innocent and brave. Sona, strategic and committed.
"I'll be back," he said, and it was a promise, not a hope. "And when I do, the name of Rias Gremory will be free. And mine will be remembered."
Without waiting for a response, he stepped forward, into Grayfia's magic circle.
The silver light enveloped him, and the mansion, his girlfriends, and the life he had built in Kuoh vanished in a flash.
The Underworld awaited him.