Highschool DxD:Frostborn Devil

5 Years Later

Sirzechs, Michael, and Azazel sat at the grand table, their expressions grave. The representatives of the Three Biblical Factions were gathered in Kuoh Academy's meeting hall, the air heavy with tension. The recent attack by Kokabiel, one of the fallen angel cadres, had nearly resulted in the deaths of Rias Gremory and Sona Sitri, shaking the already fragile balance of power.

Azazel sighed, rubbing his temples before speaking. "Alright, enough of this useless back-and-forth. We're not here to throw accusations—we're here to discuss peace."

Michael, ever composed, nodded. "Indeed. The chaos Kokabiel caused is a sign that war still lingers in the hearts of some. If we do not take action, this cycle of hatred will never end."

Sirzechs, his crimson eyes glinting with determination, added, "The attack on Rias and Sona was unacceptable. If a rogue element within the Fallen could act so recklessly, who's to say others won't follow? If we don't find a way to stabilize relations now, we may face an even greater catastrophe in the future."

The room fell into a contemplative silence. The leaders knew the stakes. This was not just about one battle or one town—this was about the survival of their factions.

For centuries, angels, devils, and fallen angels had waged war, each side believing itself superior. But now, with old enemies sitting together at the same table, the question remained—could true peace ever be achieved?

Serafall Leviathan, ever the energetic yet shrewd Maou, leaned forward with a sigh, waving a dismissive hand.

"Honestly, why are we still talking about this? Some rogues will always be out there causing trouble, but that doesn't mean we should throw away the chance for peace!" she said, her usual cheerful tone replaced with rare seriousness.

Azazel smirked. "For once, I agree with the Magical Girl."

Serafall pouted at the nickname but didn't argue. Michael nodded in agreement. "If we allow the actions of a few extremists to dictate our path, then we will never break free from this cycle of hatred."

Sirzechs folded his hands together, his gaze sharp. "Then we all agree—peace is the best path forward?"

The room fell into silence as the leaders of the Three Factions exchanged glances. The future of their world hinged on their decision.

With a satisfied nod, Michael, Sirzechs, and Serafall agreed to the peace treaty, officially marking a new era for the Three Factions.

Azazel leaned back in his chair, smirking. "Alright, now that we've wrapped this up, let's move on to something just as important—if not more. The Chaos Brigade."

The room tensed immediately. Even with peace established between the Three Factions, the Chaos Brigade remained a dangerous wildcard.

Sirzechs' expression darkened. "They've been growing bolder. Their recent attacks show they aren't just a loose group of radicals anymore."

Michael nodded solemnly. "The fact that they are uniting various factions under one banner is concerning. Their threat is not just to us but to the entire supernatural world."

Serafall crossed her arms. "We've identified several of their key members, but we still don't know the full extent of their operations. If we don't act soon, they could escalate things beyond our control."

Azazel's golden eyes gleamed with amusement, though his tone was anything but playful. "Then let's get serious. We need to decide how we're dealing with this before they drag us all into another war."

The atmosphere in the room turned heavy as the leaders prepared for the next crucial discussion—how to handle the rising storm known as the Chaos Brigade.

Azazel: "OK, now that it's settled, let's talk about another important matter: the Chaos Brigade."

Michael: "What's the latest on their movements? Have they made any significant strikes recently?"

Azazel: "They've been quiet, but I suspect they're regrouping. They know that the recent events have put us all on high alert. We need to be ready for whatever they plan next."

Serafall: "While we're discussing threats, let's not forget that some rogues will always be out there. We need to stay vigilant and make peace where we can."

Every leader nodded in agreement.

Azazel: "Now that it's settled, let's move on to another important matter—the Chaos Brigade."

Michael: "I have an idea. Why don't we ally our faction with the Nordic faction? Isn't Odin a friend of yours, Azazel?"

Azazel: "That could work. An alliance with them could strengthen our position. But we should also consider the new faction that's emerged: White Sovereignty. I've had interactions with one of their highest-ranking knights."

Sirzechs: "White Sovereignty? I've heard whispers about them, but I didn't know they were this organized. What do you know about their motives?"

Azazel: "They claim to seek balance among the realms, uniting different races under a single banner. Their strongest warriors, the Knights, are said to be a minimum of High Ultimate class. This could be an incredible asset to our cause."

Michael: "An alliance with a faction that comprises various races could enhance our resources and intelligence. We would be able to gather diverse perspectives and strategies."

Serafall: "But what do they want in return? Every faction has its goals. We need to ensure that our interests align."

Azazel: "That's what negotiations are for. I'll reach out to them and see if we can establish some terms. If they're truly as strong as rumored, it might be worth the effort."

The leaders exchanged glances, contemplating the potential impact of the new faction on their future, weighing the benefits and risks of such an alliance.

Azazel: "I can contact them right now." He removes a card with an ice blue pawn on it, its surface shimmering with a faint magical glow. "This card is a direct link to their representative. With just a thought, I can send a message."

Michael: "That's impressive. Let's hope they respond positively."

Serafall: "Yes, the sooner we can establish communication, the better. We need to be proactive about this."

Azazel: "I'll send the message now." He focuses his energy on the card, channeling his intent through it. "Let's see if they're willing to discuss an alliance."

The card begins to glow brighter, signaling that the message is being sent. The room falls silent, all eyes on Azazel as they await a response from the White Sovereignty.

Azazel: "If they're as strong as rumored, we'll need to be prepared for their answer, whatever it may be."

Moments pass, tension building in the air as they wait for the connection to be established.

As the magic circle shimmers to life, a radiant holy aura fills the room, and a figure emerges. A woman clad in shining armor steps forward, holding a flag emblazoned with intricate designs. Her presence commands attention.

Jeanne: "Greetings, faction leaders. I am Jeanne d'Arc, descendant of the legendary Jeanne d'Arc, the 12th Knight of the King of the North."

The atmosphere shifts as everyone instinctively goes on guard, recognizing the significance of her lineage and the power she might wield.

Jeanne's gaze sharpens as she focuses on Azazel.

Jeanne: "Why did you use your call?"

Azazel meets her eyes with a calm demeanor, aware of the weight of her question.

Azazel: "We need to discuss the recent events affecting our factions, particularly the actions of the Chaos Brigade and the threats to our territories. Your faction has been mentioned in relation to these incidents, and I believe an alliance could be mutually beneficial."

Jeanne raises an eyebrow, her posture unwavering.

Jeanne: "You think we would consider an alliance without knowing your true intentions? What guarantees do we have that this isn't a trap?"

Michael interjects, trying to ease the tension.

Michael: "We understand your caution, but our factions face a common enemy. Cooperation is vital for our survival in these troubling times."

Serafall nods in agreement.

Serafall: "Indeed! Our goal is to maintain peace and protect our realms. An alliance could strengthen us against the Chaos Brigade and any rogue elements that threaten our stability."

Jeanne crosses her arms, considering their words carefully.

Jeanne: "Very well. But understand that trust must be earned. I will bring your proposal back to my faction for discussion. However, be prepared for any scrutiny from my leaders."

With that, she steps back, ready to return to her world.

Azazel: "Thank you for your willingness to consider this, Jeanne. We look forward to your response."

As Jeanne vanishes, the tension in the room gradually lessens, but the weight of the conversation lingers in the air.

Two hours later, the Chaos Brigade launched an attack on the meeting, targeting Rias's Bishop and forcing him to activate his Sacred Gear, the Forbidden Eye of Valor, to stop time. However, they were betrayed by Vali, the White Dragon Emperor, who sided with the enemy. Despite the intense battle, the faction leaders managed to fend off the attackers, but Vali escaped through a portal before they could capture him.

Right now, Asia was healing the wounded while Sirzechs, Michael, and Azazel were discussing the peace treaty.

Michael sighed. "Despite the attack, I still believe the peace treaty must be upheld. We cannot let the actions of the Chaos Brigade dictate our future."

Sirzechs nodded. "I agree. If anything, this attack proves that we must unite against greater threats. The Three Factions cannot afford to be divided any longer."

Azazel leaned back, rubbing his chin thoughtfully. "It's ironic, isn't it? Just as we're about to finalize peace, we get attacked. Someone clearly doesn't want this treaty to happen."

Michael frowned. "The Chaos Brigade will not stop here. We need to prepare for future attacks."

Sirzechs crossed his arms. "Agreed. We also need to investigate how they infiltrated our meeting so easily."

Azazel smirked. "Already on it. My crows are tracking down any remaining spies."

Michael looked around at the wounded. "For now, let's ensure everyone recovers. The treaty will proceed as planned."

Sirzechs nodded. "Then it's settled. The Three Factions will stand united."

The sudden presence sent a chill through the air, making every leader and warrior in the vicinity tense up. Their senses screamed at them—this was no ordinary individual.

Sitting casually on a boulder, the figure exuded an air of nonchalance, yet an overwhelming pressure radiated from him. He wore a tailored black suit beneath a long trench coat, its edges slightly frayed, as if worn through countless battles. Silver sunglasses concealed his eyes, making it impossible to gauge his intentions. His long, silver-grey hair was neatly tied into a ponytail, and between his fingers, he held a cigarette, smoke curling lazily into the night air.

Azazel narrowed his eyes. "Who the hell—"

Before he could finish, the figure took a slow drag from his cigarette, exhaling a thin stream of smoke before speaking.

"Quite the mess you've got here," he said in a deep, smooth voice, laced with amusement. "Peace talks interrupted by a terrorist attack. How predictable."

Sirzechs, Michael, and Azazel all turned toward him, their instincts sharp. This man—whoever he was—was powerful. But what was even more concerning was that none of them had sensed him approach.

Michael stepped forward, his divine aura flaring slightly. "Who are you?"

The atmosphere grew heavier as the mysterious man introduced himself.

"I am Taro Sakamoto, the 13th knight of the King of the North," he said, taking another slow drag from his cigarette before exhaling. His voice was calm yet carried an undeniable weight.

Azazel folded his arms. "So, I take it your king has considered our request?"

Taro gave a small nod. "Indeed. The King has pondered over the proposal given to the 12th knight. And now, I am here to deliver his response."

Everyone remained silent, waiting for his next words.

Taro took another slow drag of his cigarette before exhaling, his silver sunglasses reflecting the dim light of the battlefield.

"Tomorrow at 10:00 AM, a knight will teleport all of you to our territory," he said, his voice even and unwavering. "Be at Kuoh Academy. Do not be late."

The room fell silent for a moment. The weight of his words hung in the air.

Michael was the first to speak. "Your king is willing to meet with us, then?"

Taro gave a small smirk. "That is what I said, isn't it?"

Sirzechs narrowed his eyes. "And what should we expect?"

Taro stood up from the boulder, adjusting his trench coat. "Expect nothing, and be ready for anything." He turned away before pausing. "Oh, and one more thing… the King does not tolerate disrespect. Keep that in mind."

With that, he flicked his cigarette away, and in an instant, his presence vanished like mist in the wind, leaving the leaders of the Three Factions with a new, unknown challenge ahead.