Welcome, to the Rewrite of "DXD: One Gamer's Tale", otherwise known as "DxD: Vivus Codex"!

Whoo, boy~! First of all, thanks to everyone for being so supportive, as much as internet people can be, with my decision! It's not like I thought that people would be spitting at me, saying "You fucking hypocrite!" and all that jazz, but it's like EVERY FREAKING PERSON WAS POSITIVE!

Was my other story that bad~?

Who am I kidding~!?

I'm not quite sure how else I can delay the announcements before the Chapter anymore, so here ya go!

...

Oh, wait!

"Reticulating Spines..."

Disclaimer: I OWN IT, I FREAKING OWN IT NOWwww...no, I don't. Highschool DxD is the property of...well, I'm not looking it up right now. It belongs to some professional author who seems to like pissing everyone off with Rias Gremory's personality and general existence. I'm not quite sure about this, but there might also be a publishing company out there that can call dibs on it, so yeah...

However, what I do own, is any and all OC(s) that you may or may not see in this story, as well as any original story idea that is used in this particular story! Besides that, and a mountain of smoked bacon, I'm fuckin' broke!

WARNING: Whilst this story will be similar to the last one, I've learned my lesson as far as dark topics are involved. Because I'm taking the story seriously now, I will warn you of what you can expect:
Blood and Gore will be happening.
Extreme Profanity is basically my calling card.
Adult Situations will most likely happen later on in the story.
Character Death will be a thing.

Guide for how to read this Chapter (since I still haven't fully decided on how I want to format this story):

"Words." - Talking. Anything in italics is stressed and/or important. If, for some reason, I mistakenly use emboldening on a word in this fashion again in the story, please leave a Review telling me. I'm so used to it from my last story that it might slip through, and I'm genuinely trying to proofread these damn things.

'Stuff.' - Thinking. I'll be using apostrophe marks to enclose them, and so like with the bold words whilst talking, please tell me if I mistakenly use quotation marks again.

Everything else. - Descriptions.

*sounds* - Shorthand descriptions of sound that I needlessly still explain in more detail anyways, because I'm a B-Grade author of amateur fiction.

[Terms] - Terms and titles and really just that odd shit that isn't normally used in conversation.

Chapter 1 – The Date of Change (Pt. 1)

There once was a boy named Issei Hyoudou. At first glance, he seemed to be nothing but a trivial existence. Despite having a kind heart, his eccentric worldly desires set him apart from his peers and friends, and even caused a large majority of the people around him to spurn his existence.

However, that changed one day when he was killed, only to be resurrected by a beautiful savior. From then on, he became their loyal servant. Over time, he found that he had a great power inside of him, to which he began to work incredibly hard in order to learn how to utilize it for the sake of protecting his loved ones.

Over the course of a single year, this boy became one of the most prominent young figures in the world of the supernatural, staring down both Gods and Dragons whenever he needed to. Because of his strength, he was beset by enemy after enemy, crisis after crisis and plot after plot.

However, with his overwhelming power and an ironclad will, he overcame every obstacle he faced with his friends and loved ones by his side. Despite a few close calls, he never failed in the absolute mission he gave himself to protect everything he cared about.

This...

...is not his story!

Sitting on a simple metal chair behind a long metal table inside of a small room that was lit by a single bright-burning light-bulb attached to a wire dangling from the ceiling, was a young man.

This young man looked to be in his mid-teenage years, with white skin, short golden-blond hair and deep blue eyes. He wore a thin light-blue hoodie over a somewhat baggy white t-shirt and blue denim jeans that covered up his slim physique. On his feet were a pair of black sneakers. His hands were currently behind the back of the chair, shackled together by a pair of steel handcuffs that were connected to a bolt in the floor by a metal chain.

Sitting across from him on the other side of the table in a similar chair, was a bald man in his thirties with tan skin and green eyes. He wore a white dress shirt and black slacks over his athletic body with a pair of black dress shoes on his feet. At his waist, was a pistol in a holster.

On the table in front of the bald man, was an open manila folder that had a stack of paper on the inside that was filled to the brim with different kinds of information, as well as a mug shot-style photo of the blond in front of him.

"Let's see...Douglas A. Roland. 15 years old, and a sophomore at Vancity High with a 3.8 GPA and on the road to graduating early. Except..." the bald man recounted some facts, reading off through a few of the papers in front of him before slipping his hand underneath the flap of the manila folder...

*SLAM*

...and closed the folder shut in an instant as he stared hard at the young man who flinched at the sudden sound.

"...despite sounding like an exceptional young man, this little guy seems to have gained a sincere problem with being a good boy when he's placed in front of a computer. Hacking into the security camera network for your school...let's hear it. Why?" the man asked in a frustrated tone, to which the young man sitting across from him just turned his eyes away.

"..." the young man, Douglas, stayed quiet in the face of the questioning.

*SLAM*

The bald-headed man roughly brought his clenched left fist down onto the table, causing Douglas to flinch again in his seat.

"Don't try the 'tough guy act' with me, you little punk. I've interrogated murderers, rapists and drug dealers that were sitting exactly where you're sitting, and they all broke down crying in the end. You ain't nothing, so stop your little fucking stage play." the man attempted to intimidate the blond, who just continued looking away from him and staying quiet.

"Hey, look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!" the man spoke in a louder voice as he roughly stood up, his metal chair screeching against the floor as he proceeded to tower over the blond.

Douglas didn't look at him, choosing to look towards the metal door to his left.

"Hey, little punk! I said, look at me!" the bald man shouted, angrily walking around the table until he was standing directly in Douglas's line of sight, bending over right over him. Douglas shifted his eyes again to the right, where on the wall was a big pane of what appeared to be black glass.

"Turn off the camera and microphone!" the bald man suddenly turned his head toward the window and ordered. Shortly after, the red light on a camera, that was sitting in one of the corners of the ceiling of the room, turned off.

Suddenly, the bald headed man's hand shot up and grabbed underneath Douglas's chin, before the man started to forcibly try to make Douglas look at him.

"You listen to me, kid. I don't care who the hell you think you are. When I ask you a fucking question, you answer me immediately. You always look me in the fucking eyes, and you never fucking disobey me. Do you hear me?" the bald man spoke through gritted teeth directly into Douglas's ear.

Douglas's eyes darted to his for an instant...before looking off in another direction.

"Why you little...!" the bald man sneered before drawing his free hand back...

...and clenching it into a fist.

2 Hours Later...

In the early hours of the evening, in a small city nestled in the valley between two mountains, there was a police station near the southern part of the city.

Half-limping through the automatic opening doors of said police station, trailing behind another individual, Douglas exited the building and was greeted by a semi-warm breeze of wind.

His clothes somewhat disheveled, a few odd people who went to enter the police station as he left were taken aback by the swelling black right eye, the multiple small cuts still releasing small drops of blood, and the busted-up lips that he now possessed.

The person walking in front of him with an air of indignation in his step, was a man in his forties who was around half a foot taller than Douglas with a farmer's tan, short slicked-back black hair and blue eyes. His body was slim and skinny. He wore a red and black flannel jacket over a black t-shirt and blue denim jeans. On his feet were a pair of dark brown worker's boots that his pants were tucked into.

As the two of them walk over to a dark-blue two door pickup truck parked near the entrance, the person walking in front of Douglas turns around and stops.

"The fuck were you thinking, Doug? I told you to be upfront with the police about this. After being so good for so long, you suddenly start acting up now? Not only that, but you went and got your ass beat the fuck up." the man spoke, his deep voice laced with annoyance and frustration.

Douglas, without looking at the man, just tried to limp right past him to get to the truck.

As he was passing by the older man, a tan hand gripped hard onto his left bicep.

"Doug, you just fucking cost me nearly 2,000 dollars to keep this out of court, and to keep it off your record. You may get away with not saying anything to the police, but you ain't gonna get by your Daddy like that." the man spoke, to which Douglas shifted his eyes over to the older man's.

'...Kenneth Roland...my father...' Douglas thought to himself, before purposefully looking towards the truck. Kenneth then scoffed.

"Fine. Fucking be that way, you little shit-stain!" the man exclaimed, breaking away from Douglas and opening up the driver's side door of the truck before hopping into the seat.

Closing the door and rolling down the window, the older man glared at Douglas.

"You wanna be like that, then you can fucking limp home. I may just lose my son tonight to a mugger, but if he don't wanna mind his Daddy, then good fucking riddance!" Kenneth shouted, rolling up the window before starting the truck and putting the truck into reverse.

Backing out of the parking space, he just gave a dirty look to the blond beat-up teenager standing lamely on the sidewalk. Once he was cleared of the other parked cars, he shifted the truck into gear before taking off out of the parking lot.

'There's absolutely no way...' Douglas thought, a surge of disbelief going through him as he started limping down the sidewalk in the direction the truck drove.

However, while the truck drove straight through an intersection, when Douglas came to it, he went right...

Douglas's House

25 Minutes Later...

As a dark blue pickup truck pulled up into the gravel driveway of a two-story house on the outskirts of the city, a woman looked through the window from her position on rather comfortable-looking reclining chair in the middle of a carpet-floored living room.

The woman was in her late forties, with brown hair tied into a bun and brown eyes. She had a somewhat pudgy figure, that was covered up slightly by the black sweatshirt and gray sweatpants she wore.

Across from her, mounted on the far wall, was a television playing a late-night drama that had been recorded on a DVR box that sat just below the TV on a pristine glass table.

Almost as soon as she saw the lack of a blond teenager in the passenger seat of the truck, she turned her head back around and went back to watching television.

Within a moment, a door to the outside world opened and closed. Shortly after, she saw Kenneth walk through a hallway and into the living room.

"You didn't give him a ride?" she asked, almost absentmindedly. Kenneth just gave a grunt.

"Nah. Little punk decided to go all silent on me. Think we should call Garth?" Kenneth spoke in almost a joking tone as he took his flannel jacket off and hung it on a coat rack on the wall of the living room. After that, he walked over to a separate chair that was identical to the woman's and sat down, basking in the comfiness of the seat.

"...do you think we need to? It seems a little risky, with him acting out...but, that would probably work out for the best. He'll know what to do. Even if we don't, we'll need to get him back here before midnight. With the law and everything..." the woman replied, her voice almost contemplative. Kenneth nodded.

"I'll do that here in a bit. Talking with the police is exhausting." he complained as they proceeded to silently watch television together.

Back with Douglas

1 Hour Later...

Walking through the streets, the sun setting lower and lower behind a far-off mountain in the distance as he pushed through the pain, Douglas started getting towards the edge of the western side of the city.

Stopping at a particular dirt road that branched off from the street, he looked towards where the road led.

With paint chipping away from the exterior, there stood a run-down and almost abandoned-looking building. It's wooden exterior seemed to be missing pieces and chunks. There were small patches of grass around it in places, but it mostly stood in the center of a large dirt circle. Going up to the front entrance doors, was a staircase made of stone. There was a beat-up old black sign that stood near the dirt pathway. The white-colored words were hardly legible after so much lack of maintenance, but Douglas knew what it had said at one point.

"West Vancity Baptist Church...hard to imagine what the inside must be like." Douglas pondered aloud, before slowly trudging towards the small stone staircase.

Going up the stairs, he could faintly hear a soft tune being hummed by a melodious female voice coming from inside. Reaching the doors, he opened them up.

The inside wasn't much better than the outside, though it seemed more tolerable with its carpeted floors and protection from the elements. There were rows and rows of wooden pews lined up, all leading towards the raised floor where the alter was. Behind the alter, a dark-colored wooden podium stood. Above where the podium was, a gold-colored cross was emblazoned into an overhang for the congregation to look at during prayer. There were a few paintings on the wall depicting holy scenes, but they were partially shredded and generally seemed to be left there due to no longer having any real value after being tarnished so much.

And, sitting on top of the altar, was a fair-skinned woman who looked to be in her twenties. Her hair was long and so white that it seemed to cast its own ethereal glow around her. Her eyes were a vibrant green and seemed to contain a spark of playfulness in them. Her slim body possessed amazing curves that filled out her long sleeveless silken dress of white with artistic and flowing veins of golden embroidery all over it. All over her left arm, were mostly black tattoos of various types of currency that possessed small amounts of different colored ink in places. There were depictions of coins, paper bills, bars of precious metals and a slew of various other types.

Seeing the young man enter through the doors, the woman shifted from her humming to speaking with him fluidly as she got down off the altar to stand on bare feet.

"From such injuries, I can only assume that it went as I predicted?" the woman asked, her voice kind and implying that she felt slightly sorry for whatever had happened to him.

Douglas closed the doors and walked forward towards the altar until he stood a mere five feet away from her. The raise in the floor that she was on, though, caused her to seemingly tower over him.

"For five years, I've lived here. Never once did my family turn on me like that. My father didn't even blink twice about leaving his own injured son on the side of the road, and even though there were people in the observation room of the police station watching that cop abuse me, he wasn't even questioned after he beat the shit out of me." Douglas replied. The woman stepped down off the raised floor to stand at eye-level with Douglas.

Reaching up with a hand, she gently traced the area around his black eye.

"I see. Do you regret taking my advice to stay silent and not cooperate with them? After all, if you had cooperated, you would most likely have been spared from the pain." she asked, to which Douglas narrowed his one good eye at her before reaching up with his hand and grasping her wrist gently yet firmly. Pulling her hand away from his face, he took a deep breath...

"There'd be no point in that. Let's just say, however, that you definitely have earned my undivided attention." Douglas stated, a glint appearing in his eyes as his swollen face morphed into one of awkward determination.

Smiling kindly at the young man for his forgiveness of her having made him suffer physical and emotional abuse for the sake of proving a point to him, the woman simply reached forward and grabbed onto Douglas's left arm that was covered by his jacket.

Using her soft and dainty fingers, she slowly slid his jacket up his forearm, exposing his bare skin. Douglas allowed her to do this with bated breath. He couldn't deny that the kindness she exhibited made a few of the normally-dormant butterflies in his stomach start fluttering around wildly, causing his cheeks to heat up slightly from the odd feeling. Once his forearm was completely bare for both of them to see, she spoke to him.

"This ties into the talk we had before, about Angels and Devils and the like. In the past, I have met many a gentleman and lady who I would assist with gaining riches beyond their wildest dreams through the veritable addiction that is gambling. That is what I am good at, and thus it is what I did. However, you are considerably different..." she spoke in a voice that seemed old-fashioned, yet also with a note of nostalgia.

Douglas watched as she held his right forearm up with her left hand, and held her right hand above his arm with her index finger's small nail being aimed right at one of the veins on his hand.

However, it was not touching him, at the moment.

"Douglas Roland. There are weapons, tools and trinkets known as [Sacred Gears] in this world that have been gifted to humanity by the God for whom this place is built to worship. I confide in you now, that you possess one of these artifacts. Intertwined with your soul and body, is the one that is rumored to carry the spirit of the [Lady of Luck]."

"You, are my host. The host of the [Vivus Codex]."

Douglas's House

Same Time...

"...and then I got in my truck and drove away. He's probably limping here as we speak." Kenneth finished his explanation as he held a smartphone up to the side of his head.

He felt a little miffed that his son wasn't home yet, but by the long growl of a sigh on the other end of the line, he supposed that perhaps the man he was talking to was even less happy than he was.

"I'll be at your house within a few hours. Make sure that Douglas is in the house by the time I get there. I trust I shouldn't have to tell you that it would be detrimental if he is allowed to do as he pleases for too long." the masculine voice on the other end of the phone spoke in a German accent.

Kenneth just nodded his head.

"Yep. It ain't healthy for a kid like that. He needs discipline." Kenneth agreed, before the call was ended by the male on the other end hanging up.

"Go out and find him. I'll be making dinner." the woman sitting across the room from him spoke, to which Kenneth nodded before getting back up to go out and look for his wayward son.

Elsewhere

Same Time...

*Beep* *Beep* *Beep*

As a machine of some sorts that was nestled up against the wall of a silent white room started beeping loudly, a chorus of about eight voices cheered out as if in victory. And then, one mature feminine voice, amplified through a speaker resting on the wall, spoke these words...

"Phase 1 is complete! He's caught on!"

CHAPTER END

Buenos Mucha Nachos, Pendejos~!

The most culturally-sensitive, morally-correct and incomprehensibly compassionate jackass of this particular FanFiction account is back!

Look down below, for that sweet sweet section that allows people of all kinds to Leave a Review, and let me know how you either "like" or "absolutely hate" this new Chapter 1!

Oh, and in case you're wondering, Yes. I have a First Arc actually planned. However, it won't be twenty chapters long, like the last story was. Because I planned. Yeah.

Because "planning" is a thing.

Also, Chapters will usually be longer than this, but I needed an "anchor chapter" as I like to call them. Just having something actually published officially onto the site helps push me to write more, since I'm not constantly coming up with ideas, sitting down to write about them, and then crumpling up and throwing the paper away because it turned out to be boring.

Stay tuned for Chapter 2!

Seriously, I'm fucking writing that right now. Like, as I'm typing this, I'm writing that one at the same time.

It's freaky.