This is a new fanfic I started working on, this one kept popping up in my head so I decided to put it to paper so to speak. Let me know what you think?
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Ren POV
The world was quiet the day I died.
Not peaceful—just quiet.
The kind of silence that hangs around long hospital halls. Cold fluorescent light above me. A heart monitor beside me, beeping softer now. Slower. Like even it was tired of trying.
I looked out the window. Fourth floor. Same view for the past six months. Same cherry blossom tree, still too stubborn to bloom. The petals were late this year. Or maybe they weren't. Maybe I was just early for everything else—early to get sick, early to fade.
They told me I had time.
But I'd learned a long time ago that "time" was just a polite lie doctors told people like me.
I was born with something rare—some long-winded neurodegenerative illness I could never pronounce. One of those you can only fight for so long. By the time I was ten, walking felt like lifting stone with string. By fifteen, I needed help eating. By eighteen, I couldn't even type my own name.
But even then, I wasn't afraid of dying.
What I was truly afraid of was not living.
That's why I escaped into stories. Into worlds not my own.
I devoured them—anime, manga, light novels, game scripts. Anything that let me feel the wind on my face, the weight of a sword in my hands, the heartbeat of battle.
High School DxD, Fairy Tail, Tensura, Hunter x Hunter, Arifureta.
My pantheon of second chances.
They weren't just entertainment.
They were maps. Codes. Proof that even nobodies could become something more if the world just gave them a shot.
I never believed in God. Not really. But I believed in reincarnation or maybe I just wanted to.
I had this idea. A story I wrote when my hands still worked. A world I built over hundreds of pages, scribbled into notebooks I kept under my bed.
I called it Dragonic Rebirth.
A boy like me dies and wakes up in the world of High School DxD. But not just as a devil. Not just with a Sacred Gear. He's born into one of the original 72 Pillars—the Buné clan, thought to be extinct. And not just that. He carries draconic blood, with a destiny that crosses into other worlds.
Fairy Tail. Tensura. Arifureta. Moonlit Fantasy.
A multiverse of dragons—and he's bound to every one of them.
He doesn't just survive.
He becomes legend.
However I was never able to finish it because my body gave out before the ending could come.
The night it happened, I was completely alone.
The nurses had just left. The machines were humming like always. I could barely move. Couldn't even turn my head. All I could do was stare at the ceiling tiles and imagine the stars behind them.
Then… I whispered.
To nothing. To everything. To myself.
"Please… if there's anything out there. Anyone. Let me try again. Let me live where I can fight. Where I can run. Where I'm strong enough to matter."
My vision blurred as the beeping slowed.
And for a moment… I felt nothing.
Then I heard it.
"Desire acknowledged. Soul selected. Rebirth initiated."
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There was a brief moment of pain.
Then there is light.
Then there is sound.
The there is crying—my crying.
I hear a woman's voice, gentle and awe-struck and a man's voice, quiet and heavy with restraint.
I opened my eyes and saw silver hair. Blue eyes. A ceiling made of stone instead of plaster.
I had been reborn.
Not as a spirit or some formless soul but as a child.
In a world I had imagined.
They named me Ren. Ren Buné.
Last heir to a ruined name. Born into the shadows of the underworld.
My new mother, Astra, was graceful, powerful—engineered by the Sigurd Institution to wield demonic swords no ordinary being could touch.
Gram. Balmung. Tyrfing. Nothung. Dáinsleif.
She wielded them all like they were extensions of her soul.
My father, Lucerius, was quiet but heavy—like a mountain dressed in black. His aura pulsed with Touki, pure life-force trained to perfection. He didn't need spells. He needed only his body and will.
I recall the man named Ladora Buné, who became a rook in Sairaog Baels peerage I wonder what my relation is to him or if he exists in this world.
My parents didn't treat me like a prince.
They treated me like a promise.
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years later
By the age of four, I could read ancient demonic.
By the age of five, I could feel pressure shifts in the air when my father trained nearby.
Something pulsed under my skin—a second heartbeat, slow and primal.
Then came the dreams.
The sound of wings flapping in darkness. A large green eye. (A/n: using anime version.)
And a voice:
"Closer, partner. You are almost ready."
Not long after hearing that, I woke up. That voice sounded familiar but I couldn't quite place it yet.
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It happened during meditation.
Pain bloomed in my left arm.
Crimson light burst from my palm.
I can feel the power coursing though it
When the light faded, I saw a gauntlet convering my left hand and forearm that I recognize as the Boosted Gear.
Then, the voice again—clearer now.
[I am Ddraig, the Welsh Dragon, the Red Dragon Emperor. You carry my soul. You are my partner. We are one.]
As the Boosted Gear manifested, everything came back to me.
My memories. My death. My stories. My wish.
I wasn't just a child, I was the one who wrote this world into being.
During that time, I thought or hoped that it might be possible that the worlds that I have seen in anime, manga, and novels existed. But I did not expect to be reborn into the world I created. But since I did not finish it, there is no guarantee that it is the same
My parents found me kneeling in a ring of shattered aura. I looked up and whispered: "I remember now, I remember everything."
Father said nothing.
Mother whispered: "Then we begin your training."
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Not long after begining my training.
The room was still, the air was thin and dense with pressure.
I sat cross-legged inside one of the estate's inner chambers—a place built to contain volatile energy.
I let my Touki rise. Life-force, refined. Trained. My skin hardened under Ten. My presence faded through Zetsu. I flared outward with Ren—spiritual pressure, raw and electric.
Then I reached outward with En—a detection net built from aura.
I was trying to recreate Nen using Touki—from memory, through will. And it is working.
M father entered after midnight. He didn't speak at first. He just stood behind me as I cycled my aura through Zetsu and back into Ten.
Then he said: "You've changed it."
"No, didn't change it," I whispered. "I've refined it."
His aura surged in test.
I didn't flinch.
He stopped, a rare flicker of surprise in his eyes.
Then he chuckled, low and warm before he said: "…Teach me."
He had asked me without hesitation:
"Teach me."
My eyes widen in response to what my father said, not expecting him to ask me to train him in nen. But it would be a good idea to teach him nen so he can get stronger so he could no be caught off guard.
I then tapped the floor gently.
"Sit," I said. "Focus on the air around your skin. That's your Ten."
Lucerius closed his eyes.
His Touki was already refined—denser than steel and sharper than a sword's edge—but Nen required a different kind of flow. Not battle-ready. Not attack-first.
Maintenance. Stillness. Pressure.
"You're too used to dominance," I said. "Ten is about protection. Containment. Your aura shouldn't crush. It should coat."
He adjusted instantly, causing the air around him rippled. He wasn't emitting power, he was sealing it around himself like armor.
I nodded. "Good. That's Ten."
Next, I stood up and walked around him.
"Now, suppress it completely. Draw it inward. That's Zetsu. You'll be blind to aura, but hidden."
"That explains why I barely sensed your presence even though you were right in front of me."
Lucerius exhaled, and suddenly it was like he vanished.
His killing intent, his Touki signature—gone.
If I hadn't been the one guiding him, I wouldn't have known he was there.
"Effective," he said, eyes still closed. "But inefficient for prolonged combat."
"Not meant for combat," I said. "It's meant for tracking, healing, or playing dead. it is good for stealth."
Lucerius opened one eye, faint amusement flickering in his gaze.
"You've done this before."
"In another life," I said simply before continuing. "Now," I said, stepping back, "release it. Hard. All of it."
Lucerius opened his eyes—and the air shook.
His aura flared outward in a blast of invisible force, condensed and sharpened.
I braced instinctively as the chamber cracked at the edges. Not because it was uncontrolled—but because his Ren was too powerful for any normal room.
Still, it was textbook perfection.
Power. Emotion. Projection.
"Ren," I said, nodding in approval.
Lucerius stood slowly, rolling his shoulders.
"Three forms in ten minutes," he muttered. "What comes next?"
I smiled before saying: "Advanced flow control. Hatsu. En. Gyo. All the good stuff."
Lucerius tilted his head slightly.
"Then teach me that tomorrow."
And without another word, he left—silent, composed, and quietly burning with curiosity.
I am kinda looking forward to seeing how strong that he will become with this new knowledge.
next time: Chapter 1 – A Crimson-Emerald Dawn