He activated his Balance Breaker—but instead of the usual crimson armor, scales of gold and red formed around him, patterned after the ancient Georgian Bolnisi crosses. From his back, wings of flame and grapevine unfurled. The battle was brutal. Kokabiel summoned ice spears; Natela countered with Svanetian dancing , her steps creating seismic cracks. But Issei—fueled by both the Boosted Gear and the lingering faith of the land—shouted:
A wooden ladle hit his head. Natela smirked. “Focus on the toast, boy. To friendship. To fire. To the flame that never dies—even in the Caucasus snow.”
As Issei raised his horn one last time, Ddraig whispered: “This is your true power, partner. Not just breasts—but bonds across worlds.”
Issei blushed. “I mean, Natela-san is pretty...” Highschool Dxd Qartulad
Issei’s Sacred Gear, Boosted Gear , pulsed red on his left hand. But something was different. The dragon inside, Ddraig, spoke with a rumbling echo: “This land is old, partner. Older than the Three Factions. The local pantheon—the Ghvtismshobeli —sleeps, but their magic lingers in the blood of these people.”
Issei drank. The wine burned like holy fire—but instead of drunkenness, he felt a new power surge. His Boosted Gear gained a secondary engraving: – doubling his strength for every toast honored. Chapter 3: The Fallen Priest of the Cross But peace was short-lived. A fallen angel named Kokabiel, tired of the war in Japan, had come to the Caucasus to awaken an ancient evil: the Pashkunji —a demonic wolf that once devoured the moon, sealed under Mount Kazbek.
Kokabiel screamed. “This isn’t your world, boy!” He activated his Balance Breaker—but instead of the
And somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled—still sealed, but dreaming.
Kokabiel mocked the local faith. “Your saints, your samepo (kingdom)—none of it matters. Christianity mixed with paganism? Pathetic.”
Rias Gremory had taught Issei diplomacy—but Natela had a different custom. She snapped her fingers, and a massive oak table appeared, laden with khachapuri , mtsvadi (grilled meat), and endless pitchers of amber wine. “Focus on the toast, boy
A towering man in a chokha —a traditional wool coat adorned with powder flasks—helped him up. “Welcome, boy, to the land of the Golden Fleece. I am Kote, a descendant of the Amirani —our Prometheus, chained for giving fire to mortals.”
“In Georgia,” she declared, “we do not duel with swords first. We duel with toasts .”
Issei blinked. “I... I’m seventeen.”
Before Issei could ask more, a shadow fell over them. A woman descended from the cliffs. She had long, raven-black hair braided with vines, amber eyes like aged chacha , and a pair of curved, ram-like horns. Her wings were not feathery or bat-like—they were woven from threads of golden wool.