The "camp" was a sanctuary carved from the void, nestled in the heart of the verdant, impossible garden Ren Ming had willed into existence. High above, the oppressive purple sky of the Dimensional Gap churned silently, but beneath the emerald canopy of the towering spirit trees, the air was sweet, thick with oxygen and the hum of accelerated life.
A fire crackled cheerfully in a stone pit, the flames licking at the edges of a makeshift grill—a slab of flat, superheated volcanic rock Ren had condensed from ambient particles. The scent of roasting meat wafted through the clearing, a rich, savory aroma that seemed to bypass the nose and hook directly into the primal hindbrain.
Ren Ming stood before the grill, flipping massive steaks with the casual dexterity of a suburban dad at a Fourth of July cookout. He wasn't using tongs; he was manipulating the meat with minor telekinetic nudges, sprinkling a coarse, glittering spice blend he'd pulled from his personal pocket dimension.
"What kind of meat is this?" Kiba Yuuto asked, accepting a skewer with both hands. The Knight of Gremory looked at the seared flesh curiously. It didn't just smell good; it radiated a palpable heat, a density of energy that made his fingertips tingle. "It feels... powerful."
"Wyvern meat," Ren Ming answered, his tone breezy as he basted another steak. "Caught a straggler in the Familiar Forest before I grabbed Tiamat. Don't worry, Tiamat, I didn't know him personally. Probably a distant cousin twice removed, right?"
Tiamat, the Chaos Karma Dragon King, was currently seated on a conjured log, tearing into a steak with a ferocity that was entirely un-human. Her sharp teeth sheared through muscle and bone alike, her blue eyes narrowing in gustatory bliss.
At Ren Ming's comment, she paused, swallowing a massive chunk without chewing.
"Low-born lizard," Tiamat grunted, wiping a streak of grease from her lip with the back of her hand. "He has no relation to the Dragon Kings. He tastes... decent. Your seasoning is acceptable. It masks the gamey aftertaste of failure."
"High praise coming from the strongest Dragon King," Ren Ming laughed, flipping a steak onto a plate and handing it to Asia, who looked at the massive portion with wide, intimidated eyes.
The atmosphere in the clearing was deceptively relaxed. The Gremory peerage was physically battered, their muscles dense and heavy from the day's grueling Skin Refinement, but their spirits were soaring. The exhaustion was the good kind—the kind that came after accomplishing something impossible.
As they ate, the Wyvern meat broke down instantly in their stomachs, flooding their newly refined meridians with waves of warm, replenishing bio-energy.
As the meal wound down, the silence of the void began to creep back in, prompting the inevitable questions to surface.
Rias Gremory wiped her mouth elegantly with a conjured napkin. She looked at Ren, her blue-green eyes searching. For the first time, she wasn't looking at him as an unknown or a brute, but as a riddle she was desperate to solve.
"Ren-san," Rias started, her voice soft but firm. "You speak of these... methods. You talk about the 'Dao' and 'Cultivation.' You seem to know the physiology of Devils better than we do, yet we know nothing of you. Where do you come from? Grayfia-san said you feel like a void in the world's information."
The chatter died instantly. Issei stopped chewing. Kiba lowered his skewer. Even Grayfia, standing stoically by a glowing spirit tree, tilted her head slightly, her professional mask thinning just enough to reveal her own burning curiosity.
Ren Ming chewed his steak thoughtfully, savoring the texture. He swallowed, took a long swig of water from a conjured goblet, and leaned back against the mossy trunk of a tree.
He looked at them—a group of anime characters he had watched on a screen in a different life. He could tell them the truth: 'I'm from Earth, year 2024. You guys are fiction. I used to pay taxes and scroll through random videos.'
Yeah, no. That was a buzzkill. It was boring. And frankly, Ren Ming found his old life mundane compared to the majestic, blood-soaked tapestries of the cultivation worlds he idolized.
He wasn't that person anymore.
He was Ren Ming, the inheritor of the Ancient Ming Bloodline.
"My first home isn't important," Ren said, waving his skewer dismissively. "It was a boring place. No magic. No dragons. Just taxes, bad politicians, and slow internet. But... the places I've seen since then? The legends I hold in my head? That's the good stuff."
"Like what?" Asia asked, leaning forward, her eyes sparkling with the innocence of a child asking for a bedtime story.
Ren Ming's expression shifted. The playfulness receded, replaced by a distant, contemplative look. The firelight danced in his grey eyes, casting shadows that made him look older, ancient.
"You guys think this world is big," Ren said, his voice dropping into a storytelling cadence, smooth and captivating. "Angels, Devils, Gods, Dragons. It seems huge to you. But let me tell you about a guy. Let's call him... the Dark Crow."
He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Before the universe began, there was a Crow. He wasn't strong. He wasn't a god. He was just... stuck. Cursed to fly through the Nine Worlds, unable to die, unable to stop. He spent millions of years just... learning. Watching. He taught the first Alchemists how to brew potions that could grant immortality. He taught the first Generals how to conquer nations with a single look."
Ren was spinning the tale of Li Qiye from Emperor's Domination, but he framed it as a mythos, a legend from a place far beyond their comprehension.
"He raised a little girl who liked to wash clothes by a river," Ren Ming said softly, his gaze drifting to Akeno. "Everyone thought she was a nobody. She was poor, she was illiterate. But the Crow saw her potential. He saw the fire in her blood. He taught her an Art nobody else could learn, and she became the Empress who could make other Emperors turn to dust with a wave of her hand. He raised a Koi fish that just wanted to fly," he shifted his gaze to Issei. "That fish became a Dragon that swallowed the sun."
"Who was he?" Issei whispered, completely captivated. Even Ddraig, deep within the Boosted Gear, was listening intently, sensing the weight of the concepts Ren was describing.
"He was a teacher," Ren Ming smiled, a genuine, reverent expression crossing his face. "The ultimate teacher. He walked through eras where blood flowed like rivers, and he walked through eras of golden peace. He was arrogant, yeah. He slapped gods in the face and told them to kneel. But he did it because he saw the truth. He saw that most 'gods' were just bullies with big sticks."
Ren Ming turned his eyes to Rias. The intensity of his gaze pinned her in place.
"He taught me something important," Ren Ming lied smoothly—well, he had learned it from reading the novel, so in his mind, it was a valid lesson. "Nobility isn't about bloodline. It's not about the Gremory name or the Lucifer name. It's about your Heart of the Dao. If you have the will to reach the apex, to be free... then you're noble. If you're just satisfied with what your mom and dad gave you... you're just a well-dressed peasant."
Rias lowered her gaze, her hand clutching the fabric of her skirt until her knuckles turned white. The words resonated deep within her chest, vibrating against the insecurities she had buried for years.
She had spent her whole life running from the Gremory name, hating the expectations, yet relying on its power. Ren Ming wasn't just offering her strength; he was offering her an identity. A way to be Rias. Just Rias.
"That Crow sounds... lonely," Koneko murmured, her voice barely audible over the crackling fire.
"He was," Ren Ming admitted, staring into the flames. "But he had style. And that's what matters."
He broke the tension with a sudden, loud laugh, clapping his hands together. "Anyway, enough story time. The point is, there's a massive world out there. Dimensions you can't imagine. You guys are worried about a dumbass like Riser Phenex? Please. In the grand scheme of things, Riser is less than an ant. And after I'm done with you... you'll be the boots."
"You have a way with words, Ren-san," Akeno giggled, the tension leaving her shoulders. She scooted a little closer to him, her violet eyes glinting with mischief. "You make being a 'boot' sound remarkably appealing."
"For you, Akeno? I'd say you're more of a... stiletto," Ren drawled. He turned to her, giving her a charming, crooked smile that hit with the force of a kinetic strike. It wasn't the leer of a pervert like Issei; it was the confident appreciation of a man who knew exactly what he was looking at. "Sharp. Dangerous. Good for stomping on hearts and necks alike."
Akeno blushed, a genuine flush that reached her ears. Her usual "Ara Ara" defense mechanism jammed completely.
"Oh my," was all she could manage.
"And you," Ren turned to Tiamat, who was trying to subtly steal a second steak from the platter while everyone was distracted. "You're greedy."
Tiamat froze, her hand hovering over the meat. She hissed defensively. "I am a Dragon! I require sustenance to maintain my form! Your cooking is... acceptable. It does not offend my palate."
"You're welcome, Gorgeous," Ren Ming teased, his voice dropping an octave.
Tiamat stiffened. The tips of her pointed ears turned a distinct shade of blue. She huffed, snatched the meat aggressively, and turned her back to him, muttering something about "impudent humans" while aggressively biting into the steak.
Ren Ming stood up, stretching his arms high above his head, his joints popping satisfyingly.
"Alright. Dinner's over. Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start Phase Two. We're going to work on something special. Something that'll make you feel through your core."
As the peerage scrambled to set up their sleeping bags—Grayfia had efficiently provided high-quality camping gear from a storage seal—Ren Ming walked to the edge of the garden. He looked up at the fake purple sky, the swirling void of the gap reflecting in his eyes.
'Phase One complete,' he thought, mentally checking off a box. 'Foundation set. Morale high. Tiamat hasn't tried to kill Issei yet. Success.'
He clenched his fist, feeling the Ancient Ming blood humming in his veins. It was a predatory thrum, a constant reminder of the power he held.
'Riser Phenex has ten days. Honestly, at this rate, I only really need five.'
"Ren-sama," Grayfia's voice came from behind him, cool and composed.
Ren Ming turned. The Silver-Haired Queen of Annihilation stood there, the firelight catching the sharp angles of her maid uniform. Her expression was complex—a mix of professional duty and a lingering, unsettled wariness.
"Yes, Ms. Encyclopedia?"
"Sirzechs-sama sent a message via magic circle," Grayfia said. "He has been monitoring the energy fluctuations in this sector. He asks if you would be willing to... spar with him again. After the Rating Game against Riser is concluded."
Ren Ming smirked. It wasn't a polite smile; it was a feral grin, showing teeth. It was the smile of a predator being challenged by another apex predator.
"Tell the Crimson Satan to bring his A-game," Ren Ming replied, his voice brimming with unearned arrogance that somehow felt completely earned. "Tell him to wear his big boy pants. Next time, I might not hold back."
Grayfia bowed, her eyes widening infinitesimally at the sheer audacity. "I shall convey the message. And... thank you. For the meal. It was... enlightening."
"Anytime."
Ren Ming turned back to the void. The world of High School DxD was about to get a rude awakening, and he was the alarm clock.
....
The morning sun of the dimensional gap—an artificial, violet-hued imitation of dawn—filtered through the canopy of Ren's conjured forest. The air was crisp, smelling of ozone and the rich, earthy scent of hyper-accelerated plant growth.
Ren Ming stood before the Gremory peerage, who were currently seated in a circle on the mossy ground. They looked rested, their skin glowing with a faint, healthy luster from yesterday's skin refinement. They looked cleaner, sharper, more defined than they ever had.
But there was a nervous energy in the air. They knew the "tutorial" was over.
"Okay, listen up," Ren began, pacing back and forth with a ceramic coffee mug in hand. It was filled with a steaming, dark liquid that smelled suspiciously like high-grade spirit nectar he'd swiped from a minor god's stash in his travels.
"Yesterday, we patched the leaks. We turned your bodies from rusty buckets into sealed containers. That's cool and all, but right now, you guys are just... storage units."
He took a sip of his coffee and gestured with the mug, liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
"You're like a Ferrari with a lawnmower engine. You have the chassis, you have the fuel, but you don't have the horsepower to actually drive. You're all potential, no kinetics."
Rias raised her hand, her crimson hair cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of blood. "Ren-san, are you saying our Demonic Power reserves aren't sufficient? My reserves are considered top-tier for a High-Class Devil. I have more raw power than most adults."
"Your reserves are fine, Rias. It's your core that's trash," Ren Ming replied bluntly.
Issei winced at the harshness, but Ren continued, undeterred. "See, in my book, having a big pool of mana is boring. Any idiot can have a big tank. What matters is density and processing speed. You need something inside you that doesn't just hold power but evolves it. An anchor."
Ren Ming tapped his chest, right over his sternum. Internally, his mind drifted to the Fate Palace from Emperor's Domination. In that universe, a Fate Palace was the foundation of a cultivator's existence—a metaphysical fortress that stored True Fate, refined energy, and housed the soul. Without it, a cultivator was just a mortal playing with fire.
"We're going to build a Soul Palace," Ren Ming announced.
"A... Soul Palace?" Akeno repeated, testing the words on her tongue. It sounded foreign, mystical.
"Think of it as a second heart, but spiritual," Ren Ming explained, dumbing down the cosmic philosophy for his audience. "Devils are lucky. You guys naturally have powerful souls. Most humans have souls as fragile as wet tissue paper, but you guys are built sturdy. We're going to use that. The Myriad Origin Scripture is going to guide your energy inward—not to your muscles this time, but to the center of your being. You're going to condense a solid structure out of pure energy."
He looked at them seriously, his grey eyes sweeping over each of them.
"This is what separates the casuals from the pros. Once you have a Soul Palace, you don't just 'use' magic. You generate it. You become a reactor. You stop borrowing power from the atmosphere and start dictating terms to it."
"That sounds... intense," Asia squeaked, clutching her hands together.
"It's efficient, Asia. It's highly based," Ren Ming grinned. "Now, close your eyes. Follow the flow of the Scripture. Visualize a point in your solar plexus. Don't force the energy. Let it spiral. You're laying bricks, not throwing a grenade."
The group obeyed. They sat in the lotus position, closing their eyes. Silence descended on the clearing, heavy and expectant.
Ren Ming watched them, his Hell Suppressing Immortal Physique senses active. To his eyes, the world shifted. He could see the flow of energy—streams of crimson, electric blue, and golden mana swirling inside their bodies.
'They're fast,' Ren Ming noted, impressed despite himself. 'Rias and Akeno are already stabilizing the vortex. Issei is a bit chaotic, probably because of the Dragon engine, but he's brute-forcing it effectively. Kiba is sharp, precise.'
Minutes turned into an hour. The air around the group began to hum. Visible distortions of heat shimmered off their shoulders like mirages on hot asphalt. The wind picked up, swirling around them, drawn in by the gravitational pull of their condensing cores.
But then, it stopped.
Rias frowned, her brow furrowing in deep concentration. Her aura flared—the crimson light of Destruction turning jagged and unstable.
CRACK.
A sound like breaking glass echoed from within her. The energy she had gathered dissipated instantly, scattering back into her limbs.
"I... I can't," Rias gasped, her eyes snapping open. She looked frustrated, breathless. "It's there. I can feel the structure forming, but every time I try to solidify it, it crumbles. It slips through my fingers like dry sand."
"Same here," Kiba panted, wiping a sheen of cold sweat from his forehead. "It feels heavy. Too heavy to hold. It's like trying to catch smoke with iron gloves."
Issei groaned, clutching his chest. "Mine just exploded! Ddraig was yelling at me to hold it, but it just went poof!"
Ren Ming didn't look surprised. He leaned against a tree, crossing his arms over his chest, his expression unreadable.
"Yeah, I figured that would happen."
"You did?" Issei exclaimed, indignation rising in his voice. "Then why didn't you tell us?!"
"Because you needed to feel the weight first," Ren Ming said calmly, pushing himself off the tree. "The problem isn't your power, Issei. It's your Will."
Ren Ming walked into the center of the circle. His presence seemed to expand, filling the space, making the very air feel heavier.
"In the place I get my techniques from, we have a saying: The Dao Heart is the only true limit."
He looked at them, his grey eyes piercing through their excuses.
"You guys are strong physically. You have magic. But mentally? You're soft."
He raised a hand to stop Rias from interrupting. "I don't mean you're cowards. I know you've fought. I know you've bled. But your Will hasn't been tempered. To build a Soul Palace, you need a mind that is absolute. You need to be able to look at a mountain and say 'move', and actually believe—truly believe in the deepest pit of your soul—that it will move."
Ren Ming knew he couldn't explain the millions of years of torture, betrayal, and refinement a true Cultivator went through. These were teenagers living in a high school ecchi harem anime, not ancient monsters like Li Qiye who had walked through the nine hells barefoot.
But he had to bridge the gap. He had to accelerate their evolution.
"You can't condense the Palace because your minds are wavering under the pressure," Ren Ming diagnosed clinically. "Your subconscious is afraid of the power you're trying to hold. So, we're going to fix that. We're going to hit the gym. But for your brain."
"Mental training?" Koneko asked quietly, her ears twitching.
"Will Tempering," Ren Ming corrected, his voice losing its playful edge. "I'm going to put you through some trials. Nothing physical can hurt you here. It's all in your head. But if you can hold your ground in the illusion, your Will solidifies. And when your Will is solid, the Soul Palace will form itself."
He smiled, but this time, it didn't reach his eyes. It was a cold smile. A teacher's smile before a final exam.
"We're starting small today. No trauma dumping, no deep dark secrets yet. Just... stress. I'm going to give you a really bad dream. Your job is simple: Wake up feeling like a boss."
"A bad dream?" Rias looked skeptical, crossing her arms. "Ren-san, we are Devils. We deal with nightmares. We live in the Underworld."
"My dear, you deal with spooky monsters and gothic architecture," Ren Ming chuckled darkly. "I'm talking about the kind of anxiety that makes you want to crawl out of your own skin. The mundane, crushing weight of failure. The feeling of drowning in dry air. Trust me, it's a different flavor."
Ren Ming's eyes flashed with the archaic light of the Immortal Soul Bone. The air around him rippled, reality bending to his visualization.
"Close your eyes," Ren commanded, his voice echoing in their minds. "Class is in session."