Fallen in DXD

The Year Everything Changed (Ages 6-8)

The first few years after my awakening weren't about power—they were about control.

I had power, sure, but what good was raw strength if I couldn't wield it properly? I needed precision, stability, and, most importantly, a deeper understanding of my nature as a Fallen Angel.

That was when I first got the idea to purify my blood.

It wasn't an original thought. In my fragmented memories of this world, I recalled how Akeno Himejima, someone who also carried Fallen blood, eventually purified it to unlock her Fallen Angel Mode, allowing her to wield her lightning at a far higher level than before.

That got me thinking—if she could do it, why couldn't I?

I started small, channeling my light inward, letting it burn refine my very essence. The first time I attempted it, I collapsed, completely overwhelmed by the sheer intensity of my own purification. It was reckless, painful, and nearly made me abandon the idea altogether. I'm thinking the potency of this is due to the goddess boosting my bloodline to keep up with the boosted gear freaks and people with badass abilities ingrained in their blood.

But I learned.

Instead of brute-forcing the process, I slowed down, taking it step by step. I trained my body to accept the purification rather than fight against it. I let my light flow naturally instead of forcing it to burn through me like wildfire.

The results over the next two years were undeniable.

• My control improved—I could summon and hold my light without it flickering or surging out of control.

• My stamina increased—I could push myself harder without exhausting as quickly.

• My light magic became smoother, more fluid, easier to manipulate allowing my to form it into shapes of animal and other objects.

By the time I turned eight, I felt like I was on the right path.

Then, that year hit me with two shocks that changed everything.

Irina's Departure & Cleria Belial's Death

The walk home that day started like usual, but something felt… off.

Irina wasn't her usual self. Normally, she would've been talking my ear off about whatever nonsense had happened at school.

But today, she was quiet.

I didn't press her. If she had something to say, she'd say it when she was ready.

Finally, she sighed. "So-Chan… I have to tell you something."

I glanced at her, noticing how she gripped the strap of her bag a little tighter than normal.

"What is it?"

She hesitated for a moment, then exhaled.

"My dad got called back by the church. We're moving to England."

I stopped walking. My chest tightened.

"When?"

"Tomorrow."

Just like that. No warning. No time to process.

I frowned. "Why so fast?"

She sighed, kicking a small rock as we walked. "I don't know. Dad just said we have to go. Something important came up, and we can't stay here anymore."

I didn't like it, but what could I say? It wasn't her decision. It wasn't mine either.

Instead of heading toward the church like usual, I walked her home. She needed to help her parents pack, and this was our last time walking together.

When we reached her house, she stopped at the door and looked at me.

"I'll miss you, So-Chan. I'm sure I'll be back, promise."

I nodded, the weight of her words settling in.

"Yeah… I'll miss you too. And I'll see you later."

She gave me a small smile before stepping inside, the door closing behind her.

I stood there for a moment before finally turning away, heading back to the church alone.

When I got home, still feeling a bit off from the news, I saw my mother kneeling near the altar, deep in prayer.

She looked up as I entered, studying me carefully before motioning me over. Her usual warmth was there, but something in her expression was dimmed.

"Sosuke," she said softly, "come here."

I walked over, sensing something was wrong. She never called me by my name—not unless it was serious. Normally, I was just her little star or So-Chan.

She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder, her eyes filled with sorrow.

"Cleria is gone."

I felt my stomach drop. "What?"

"She passed away," my mother murmured.

First Irina leaving, and now this?

Cleria Belial had been the reason my mother was able to come to the church. She had ensured we had a home in Kuoh. More than that, she had always been kind to me, even bringing me gifts and supplies for the church whenever she and her boyfriend Masaomi visited. Though I had to keep that a secret—apparently her family didn't approve of them being together.

And now, just like that, she's gone. I hope Masaomi will be alright.

"How?" I asked, my voice quieter than I intended.

My mother sighed. "I don't know, my love. But come—we should send a prayer for her."

I swallowed hard and nodded, following her to the altar.

I knelt beside her, clasping my hands together.

I didn't know what to pray for.

For Cleria's soul? For Irina's safe journey?

For everything to just stop changing so fast?

But I prayed anyway.

Hopefully, Michael would answer my prayers. Though he may not care for a fallen.

Light Weapon (Ages 9-12)

After the initial shock of losing my only friend and the death of Cleria, I threw myself into training.

It was the only thing that kept me from dwelling on everything too much.

But while my purification and light manipulation had improved, I realized something—I needed a weapon.

From what I knew, all Fallen Angels wielded light-based weapons that took on different forms depending on the user. The most common form was the light spear, my own weapon naturally took the shape of a silver trident. Interestingly enough, even my light itself took a silver hue.

The trident was great as I could throw it and fight up close, but I wanted something more—a secondary weapon, one that could maybe give me an upper hand. I didn't have a Sacred Gear or a special bloodline to fall back on, even if the goddess helped me out, I would still need to train a bunch for it to show results. Sacred gears and bloodline can boost people almost instantly at times.

That was when I stumbled upon the idea.

It happened when I saw some random workout video of a guy using chains during training.

The idea hit me like a freight train.

Chains.

It reminded me of one of the most badass characters in Naruto—Kushina Uzumaki. Her chakra chains were one of the most broken abilities in the Narutoverse, capable of binding even tailed beasts.

The thought ignited something in me.

I trained my light to take the form of siver chains, focusing on stability, durability, and versatility. Unlike my trident, which was limited in reach and my accuracy on where I throw it, these chains could do everything—attack, defend, restrain, and I could even use my magic control to have them follow my opponent like heat seeking missles.

At first, they were flimsy, barely holding together. I tested them on trees, only for them to shatter on impact. But that's what training was for, right?

By the time I turned 12, my chains had become an extension of my will.

• They could bind, wrapping around opponents and holding them down with unbreakable force, of course depending on my opponent's strength.

• They could lash out, striking with enough power to shatter boulders.

• They could even defend, forming barriers that absorbed attacks and redirected them.

Though I'm sure others will be able to imitate me, but my goal is to become so proficient that my construct will be theirs every time. I'm proud of the work I've accomplished, now next up is to figure out how to form these magic circles, everyone is using so I can pull a Gilgamesh and fire my chains from all directions. 

By the time I turned 13, my control over my abilities had improved drastically. My purification process had refined my light, and my chains had become an extension of my will, responding instantly to my commands.

One evening, while training deep in the forest, I felt something shift inside me.

It started as a warmth in my back, familiar yet different from my first awakening. There was no intense pain, no outward explosion of energy—just a deep, internal change, like I broke through a barrier that was holding me back.

I paused, taking a slow breath as the sensation spread through me. My light felt different—sharper, more refined, like an artist sharpening their brush or a swordsman honing the edge of their blade.

I flexed my fingers, calling forth my light.

The chains I summoned weren't brighter or larger, but they felt denser, more potent. They moved faster, and more efficiently. Even the weight of my wings felt more natural, yet also a heavier than before.

I reached back instinctively, feeling the presence of four wings instead of two.

It looks like I've managed to level up.

Thanks to this I've had a full evolution in quality and in magic reserve. My light felt more pure and under my control than ever before.

I let out a slow breath, flexing my wings as I tested my chains once more.

They snapped forward instantly, responding at a speed I hadn't been able to achieve before.

I felt great.

Devastating discovery (Age 15 ½)

At first, it was just a cough.

A little fatigue, some shortness of breath—nothing out of the ordinary. My mother had always been strong, so when she brushed it off as a simple cold, I believed her.

"It's just the weather," she had said with a tired smile. "I'll be fine in a few days."

So, I took care of her.

I made sure she got plenty of rest, kept her warm, and prepared meals to help her regain her strength. She even laughed at how overprotective I was being.

For a while, it seemed like she was improving.

But then it got worse.

The cough didn't go away. If anything, it grew harsher, deeper—wheezing. She started struggling to catch her breath after simple movements. Her fatigue turned into full-body exhaustion, and she barely had the strength to get out of bed.

I told myself it was still just a cold. Maybe she just needed more time.

Then one night, I heard it—a violent coughing fit that jolted me awake.

I ran to her room to find her gasping for air, clutching her chest as she coughed uncontrollably. Her skin looked pale, her lips slightly blue.

Panic set in immediately.

I didn't hesitate.

I picked her up and rushed to the hospital.

The entire trip was a blur—adrenaline, fear, my heart pounding louder than my own footsteps. The moment we arrived, the doctors took her in, asking me questions I could barely answer.

Then, after what felt like hours of waiting, they gave me the news.

Early Stage 4 Lung Cancer.

I sat there, frozen, as the words hit me like a sledgehammer.

Stage. 4.

How could this possibly happen?

I could barely process what they were saying. The cancer was obviously making it difficult for her to breathe. Treatment wasn't an option due to how aggressive it was. The best they could do was manage the pain and make her comfortable.

I barely heard anything after that.

All I could think was this isn't happening.

Not to her.

She was my mother. The strongest person I knew. I was the result of something awful that happened to her, yet she never cursed me or had me feel alone.

I had spent years training, refining my power, becoming stronger. Wanting to be sure I could protect her. 

Yet in the face of this, I was powerless.

And that realization hurt more than anything else.

It all felt like a sick joke that the goddess was playing on me. How could she send me here, have me love this woman with everything I had, then just take her from me?

I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I sat in the cold hospital chair. The doctors were still talking, discussing treatment options that meant nothing. Stage 4 lung cancer. It had already spread too far. They weren't offering a cure, just ways to manage the inevitable.

Manage her death.

The words were suffocating.

I barely heard what they said next, barely registered their carefully worded explanations or the sympathetic looks they gave me.

None of it mattered.

My mother was dying.

And there wasn't a damn thing I could do to stop it.

She stayed in the hospital for a few more days while they stabilized her condition. The doctors offered treatments to prolong her life, but she declined them all.

"We both know what's coming, my little star," she had said with a soft smile. "I don't want to spend my last days in a hospital."

I didn't argue. How could I?

If she wanted to go home, then that's where she would be.

I gathered all the medicine she would need from the doctor and I helped her back to the church, making sure she was comfortable in her room. She moved slower now, her once lively energy drained by exhaustion, but she still smiled like nothing had changed.

She still tried to take care of me.

Even now.

Even when she was the one fading away.

I should've been the strong one. I should've been the one reassuring her. But every time I looked at her—at how frail she had become—it felt like a knife twisting in my chest.

I spent every moment I could by her side, making sure she had everything she needed.

But in the quiet moments, when she was asleep, I trained.

Not because it would help.

Not because I thought I could change anything.

But because it was the only thing stopping me from falling apart.

During this time I trained so hard I even awakened my third set of wings, though I felt no joy or acknowledgment of my new strength. I just continued to train while still hearing the coughs of my mother as I suppressed my tormenting emotions. 

The Inevitable (age 16 ½)

As the year passed, her condition worsened.

The coughing fits became more frequent, her breaths more labored. Most nights, I lay awake outside her room, listening to make sure she was still breathing.

I hated it.

I hated every second of it.

I hated that she was suffering, that she still smiled at me even when she was in pain, that I could do nothing but watch as the strongest person in my life withered away.

And then, one evening, as I held her hand, she gave me one final smile.

"You've grown so strong, Sosuke," she whispered, her voice soft but filled with warmth. "I'm so proud of you."

I squeezed her hand, swallowing the lump in my throat. "I'm going to be okay mom." I said, letting her know that it was ok to let go.

She smiled lovingly.

And then she closed her eyes.

Her grip loosened.

And just like that… she was gone.

I sat there for a long time.

Holding her hand.

Waiting for her to wake up.

But she didn't.

She never would again.

The world felt silent, like everything had come to a stop. Like time itself had frozen around this one horrible moment.

I don't remember moving.

I don't remember how I ended up outside, staring up at the night sky.

But at some point, my knees hit the ground, and my vision blurred.

And for the first time in years—for the first time since I had arrived in this world—I cried.

I cried for everything I had lost.

For everything I couldn't save.

For the mother who had given me everything, only to be stolen away by something so cruelly human.

And when the tears finally stopped, when my body refused to move, I sat there—silent, hollow, alone.

The world kept moving.

But for me, everything had already ended.