DXD: Table for one - Chapter 8

Menchi couldn’t help but chuckle when Merlin leaned forward, eyes glinting with the same restless drive he’d shown since day one. His enthusiasm for progress never seemed to fade. If she was being honest, he was an absurdly quick learner—his natural talent for Nen easily surpassed her own. Over the past few weeks, he’d blazed through the fundamentals at a pace that would leave most trainees in the dust.

This was the last step before he could officially stand as a proper Nen user. Once he cleared this hurdle, the door to true mastery would be open to him.

“It’s simple enough,” Menchi began, leaning back in her chair. “During your Ren training, you already learned Gyo—the technique where you focus your aura into a specific body part, like your eyes, to sharpen them further. What you’ll be doing now isn’t much different.” She gestured to the wine glass sitting between them, its clear surface reflecting the dim light of the empty restaurant. “Place your hands on either side of the glass, enter Ren, and concentrate your aura into your palms. Something will happen, and that will tell us your affinity.”

Merlin adjusted his seat, resting his palms on the table around the glass. Closing his eyes for a moment, he drew in a steady breath and let his aura flow outward. A faint pressure filled the air around his hands as his Ren wrapped the glass.

Seconds ticked by. The wine glass remained completely still.

“…Nothing happened?” He finally cracked an eye open, baffled.

“Nothing you could see,” Menchi replied with a sly grin. She dipped a finger into the water, then brought it to her lips. “Go on, taste it.”

Raising an eyebrow, Merlin copied her, letting a few drops fall on his tongue. His eyes widened. “It’s… sweet? I thought it was just normal water.”

“It was normal water,” she confirmed, leaning back with satisfaction. “But not anymore. That’s your Nen at work. Congratulations, you’re a Transmuter.”

“A Transmuter, huh?” Merlin rubbed his chin, his expression halfway between thoughtful and disappointed. “Not bad… but not the best, either.”

Menchi tilted her head. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?”

“Well, Specialists are the strongest overall since they can break the rules. Then you have Enhancers—tons of raw power and great efficiency across the board. Second place would be Emitters or Transmuters, but they lose some efficiency in the other categories. Manipulators and Conjurers are at the bottom efficiency-wise. With Specialization always at 0% every Category besides it losses total Efficency, with Enhancers the least.” He shrugged, as if it were just basic logic.

“I see where you’re coming from,” she said with a faint smile, “but that’s an overly simplified view. Your total efficiency doesn’t matter much if you’re not planning to master all categories. Only an unfocused amateur tries to spread themselves that thin. A smart Nen user sticks to their own category and the two adjacent to it. That’s the most efficient path.” She tapped the table for emphasis. “Abilities that rely on more than three categories are rare, and good ones even rarer.”

Merlin leaned back, listening intently.

“It also depends on your goal. If you want pure, overwhelming combat power, Enhancement will give you the most straightforward results. They’re raw powerhouses. Other categories bring more variety and unique win conditions. With the right ability, you can win without ever matching someone blow-for-blow.”

“Right… I hadn’t thought about it that way,” Merlin admitted.

“Good. Now, about Transmutation…” Menchi folded her arms, slipping into lecture mode. “Your category means you can change the properties of your aura to mimic other things—natural elements, artificial substances, even living traits. You can reshape your aura, alter its feel, its effect… and yes, with training, you can even transmute parts of your own body.”

“That’s… a lot of options,” Merlin said after a pause, though his tone carried a note of frustration. “Too many, maybe. I can’t think of anything that feels good enough to settle on.”

“You’ll get there,” she assured him with a short laugh. “Nen mastery takes years, even decades. The more time you spend on a specific ability, the more naturally your aura will adopt its properties. Changing later becomes difficult, so you shouldn’t rush. And no—” she cut him off before he could speak “—we’re not skipping ahead to your final Hatsu ability yet.”

Merlin blinked. “Wait, isn’t Hatsu the next step?”

“It is. And that’s exactly what we’re doing,” she said, pointing at the glass. “You just need the basics for now. That’s where this exercise comes in. Now that you know your category, I want you to repeat the Water Divination Test in your free time until I’m satisfied with the results. The more you practice, the stronger your output will get. Or rather in this case, sweeter!”

———

POV: ?

A broad-shouldered man with a chiseled face and hazel, slightly slanted eyes made his way through the busy streets toward the open pavilion at the city’s center. His black hair was spiked and tied back into a long rat-tail that reached down to his shoulders, swaying slightly with each step.

The gleam of his sky-blue scale mail armor caught the sunlight, its overlapping plates arranged neatly across his chest. Arm bracers decorated with intricate clan markings covered his forearms, while sturdy leather boots—dyed to match his armor—thudded lightly against the wooden steps leading to the pavilion.

Two soldiers flanked the pavilion entrance, their hands resting on their weapons as they gave the man a brief, measuring glance. After a moment’s silent appraisal, they stepped aside without a word, allowing him to pass.

His boots clinked faintly on the steps as he ascended, each movement drawing the attention of a young man waiting above.

The one who noticed him was tall and lean, his frame deceptively strong beneath the layers of his gleaming golden armor. Shoulder-length black hair framed a composed face, and brown eyes regarded the newcomer with calm authority.

The armor bore the emblem of a dragon across the chest, encircled by decorative patterns that reflected the sunlight. A long, regal cape trailed behind him, completing the air of dignity that naturally surrounded him.

“Oh!” The golden-armored man’s lips curved into a faint smirk. “Looks like you’ve finished crying, have you? Fu—”

“Sh–Shut up!” the man in blue armor snapped, his voice sharp with irritation. “Quit laughing! Damn it!”

He reached the top of the stairs in a few quick strides, crossing his arms as he confronted the other man. “In the first place, why is it the King himself who’s come here? I heard Ryofui and Shouheikun were still enjoying themselves in Kanyou.”

“That’s because—” The King started to answer, but his words were cut short by a loud and urgent voice calling up from the base of the stairs.

“Damn it! That’s no good! It’s no good at all, Sei!”

A young woman was rushing toward them, her short black hair bouncing as she sprinted up the steps. Her sharp blue eyes were wide with alarm, and strapped across her back was a distinctive mask shaped like a bird’s face.

“Ten?”

“Ah, Shin, you’re done crying? Thank goodness!” Ka Ryo Ten skidded to a halt, only now noticing the man in blue armor.

“Ah, shut up already!” Shin barked, his patience wearing thin. “And what’s this about ‘no good’?”

The three standing at the top of the pavilion were no ordinary individuals. Ri Shin—better known simply as Shin—was a thousand-man commander in the Qin military and leader of the notorious Hi Shin Unit.

Ka Ryo Ten served as the unit’s strategist, nicknamed the Lady Tactician, and Ei Sei was none other than the 31st King of the State of Qin—one of the Seven States during the Warring States Period of China, ruling over the westernmost territory.

They weren’t just allies bound by rank. Four years ago, Shin and Ten had stood beside Sei during the bloody rebellion instigated by Sei’s half-brother, forging a friendship that had endured battles, victories, and bitter losses alike.

Today, however, that bond was about to be tested again.

The city they stood in was Sai, a small but vital settlement located at the very end of the Bu Pass.

It was the last stronghold before reaching Qin’s capital, Kanyou. Anyone marching toward the capital from this route would need to capture Sai to secure their supply lines—and more importantly, to avoid leaving an enemy force in their rear.

Unfortunately, a massive army forty thousand strong was already advancing toward them. This was no ordinary invasion but the work of a grand coalition between the six other warring states, united in the shared goal of crushing Qin’s dream of unifying China under a single rule.

Most of Qin’s military strength was already engaged elsewhere, locked in a desperate struggle at the Kankoku Pass—the most impenetrable fortress pass in all of China.

That choke point allowed Qin to hold off the combined might of the coalition… but it also meant that nearly all available forces were tied down.

And that, precisely, had been the plan of Ri Boku.

The man was one of Zhao’s famed “Three Great Heavens,” as well as its prime minister—a figure whose name carried both fear and respect across the land.

By far the most dangerous of Qin’s enemies, Ri Boku had read their intentions like an open scroll. He had seen through the unification plan, rallied the other states to his banner, and orchestrated a strategy that forced Qin to commit to the Kankoku Pass.

Then, with their defenses fixed in place, he had maneuvered his own army through the Bu Pass, aiming a spearhead straight toward Kanyou.

Still… even the greatest plans had flaws.

One of Qin’s fiercest generals, Duke Hyou, had been the first to notice Ri Boku’s movements. Without hesitation, he had led his army in a daring attempt to flank the enemy force. For a brief moment, it worked—Ri Boku’s massive host was forced to adjust its formation, slowing its advance.

But the disparity in numbers was too great. Duke Hyou’s five thousand men were swallowed by the forty thousand under Ri Boku’s command. In the bloody clash that followed, the legendary general fell in battle, buying Qin only a sliver of precious time.

Among the survivors was Shin. Having fought under Duke Hyou’s banner, he found himself in the chaos of retreat, rallying the remnants—just two thousand battered soldiers—and leading them toward Sai. The enemy’s cavalry hounded them relentlessly, cutting down stragglers, their thunderous gallop echoing like war drums at their backs.

In Kanyou, the political factions were still at each other’s throats, leaving the capital poorly prepared for any real defense.

Recognizing the danger, King Ei Sei made his decision. Gathering as many loyal troops as he could muster, he rode to Sai, where he met Shin and the weary remnants of Duke Hyou’s army. Here, they would make their stand—a final battle that would decide Qin’s survival.

Sai, however, was far from an ideal stronghold. The city was small, its walls modest in height. The gates were sturdy enough to withstand a direct assault without siege engines, but the walls themselves could easily be scaled with simple ladders.

“So it’ll come down to a melee on the walls…” Shin muttered grimly after hearing Ten’s analysis of the defenses.

Even with Sai’s garrison, the survivors from Duke Hyou’s army, and the reinforcements Ei Sei had brought from Kanyou, their total fighting force barely reached five thousand. It wasn’t even enough to fully man the walls, let alone hold them against an enemy eight times their size.

And leading that enemy… was Ri Boku—one of the greatest strategists and generals China had ever seen.

“This won’t even be a battle…” Ten said with a sigh, her voice heavy with resignation.

“No,” Ei Sei replied firmly, his eyes carrying a resolve that the others could not yet see. “Don’t give up hope.”

Before either Shin or Ten could respond, the sound of galloping hooves reached their ears. Another rider arrived at the base of the pavilion, dismounting with surprising agility for his age.

The man was sweating heavily, his long dark hair streaked with gray and a thick mustache framing his mouth.

Both Shin and Ten recognized him instantly—they had known him since the rebellion years ago.

Shou Bun Kun, Qin’s Chancellor of the Left, and one of Ei Sei’s most loyal and trusted supporters.

“Your Majesty, you need to see this!” Shou Bun Kun called as he hurried up the steps, not even pausing to catch his breath.

“What is it, Shou Bun Kun? Did you finish your inspection of the city?” Ei Sei asked, clearly puzzled.

“Yes. The population of Sai is around thirty thousand,” the chancellor reported quickly. “The men of fighting age are away at the Kankoku Pass, which leaves twenty thousand here in the city. Mostly women, the elderly, and children.” His words came fast, but there was a note of urgency suggesting there was more he needed to say.

Before he could continue, Shin interjected, his tone edged with suspicion. “Don’t tell me you want them to fight?”

Ei Sei exhaled slowly, clearly not fond of the idea himself. “We don’t have a choice. They’re our only hope right now. What’s their mood?”

“Before that, Your Majesty, there is something else you must see,” Shou Bun Kun said, cutting in with a mix of politeness and insistence. He hesitated for a moment, as though unsure how to even phrase what he was about to say. “There’s… something in this city I can’t explain. Something like magic.”

“Magic?” Ei Sei repeated, his brow furrowing.

“Yes. There’s a building in the central district. But…” the chancellor’s expression turned uneasy, “I seem to be the only one who can notice it. None of my men could see it, nor could they even approach it. I don’t know if I’m losing my mind, but I feel I must show you. The architecture—if you could even call it that—is unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I can’t imagine how my mind could have conjured it on its own.”

“A magical building?” Shin echoed, his tone skeptical.

Ei Sei studied the older man, the one who had stood by his side for years without ever once wavering in loyalty. Without hesitation, the king gave his order.

“Show me.”

———

POV: Merlin

“Merlin, dude… what exactly are you doing?” Suzuki asked dryly, glancing up from his gaming console for the third time in the past few minutes. His tone was halfway between curiosity and exasperation.

Across the table, Merlin didn’t even bother looking up. “Training,” he replied in a short, matter-of-fact voice.

“Training?” Mikami echoed from the other side, raising an eyebrow. “It looks more like you’re… I don’t know, trying to hypnotize a glass of water or something.”

“I am—sort of,” Merlin answered, finally breaking his focus just enough to gesture toward the cup. “To be exact, I’m changing it. Go ahead, taste it.”

Both Suzuki and Mikami leaned forward with mild suspicion. They each dipped a finger into the glass, hesitated, and then touched it to their tongues.

“…It’s sweet!?” Suzuki blinked in confusion.

“Did you add sugar?” Mikami asked, going back for a second taste just to make sure he wasn’t imagining it.

“Nope,” Merlin said as he lowered his hands, exhaling slightly now that he had stopped concentrating. “It’s part of my Nen training. My current basic exercise is to take normal water and make it as sweet as possible—naturally, through aura control.”

Mikami gave him a blank look. “Okay… I have no idea what the purpose of that is, but yeah—it’s sweet. Like, seriously sweet. More like sugar syrup than water.”

Suzuki nodded in agreement. “Anyway, strange water aside, we should start discussing what we’re going to launch on the marke—”

The cheerful chime of the entrance bell cut him off. All three turned toward the door in unison.

Five people stepped into the restaurant. None of them were familiar faces. The three regulars, who knew most of the clientele by now, could tell instantly these weren’t locals—or even from this world.

They were all of Asian descent, much like the majority of the customers. The exceptions, of course, were Merlin—originally from Europe before his reincarnation into the Underworld as a devil—and Menchi, whose origins were from an entirely different world altogether. Despite that, she somehow spoke fluent Japanese as if she’d been born to it.

But what caught everyone’s attention wasn’t their faces—it was their clothes.

Even Suzuki, who came from a future version of Japan where fashion had changed drastically, had never seen anything like them. Their garments were rough-spun and primitive, the sort of thing one might expect from a civilization thousands of years behind in technology. Four of them wore armor—not steel plate or modern tactical gear, but rigid, segmented pieces that looked eerily like the uniforms of the Terracotta Army from Ancient China.

The moment the door had opened, Menchi had already stepped forward, her smile bright and welcoming. “Welcome, dear customers, to Menchi’s Place! A restaurant connecting different worlds! I am Menchi!”

Merlin doubted the newcomers understood a single word. They exchanged puzzled glances, their eyes sweeping the room with a mixture of confusion and awe. Their gaze lingered on the windows, the electric lights, and every little detail that had no place in an ancient setting.

One of the men, wearing blue armor, finally broke the silence. “Just what the hell is this place? Ei Sei, have you ever seen anything like this before?”

Merlin caught the name clearly—Ei Sei—but what actually came out of the man’s mouth was “Ying Zheng.”

“That… sounded like Chinese,” Mikami muttered, narrowing his eyes. “I know some since I do business in China, though I’ve never heard that dialect before. But… did he just say ‘Ying Zheng’?”

“He did,” Merlin confirmed, feeling the newcomers’ attention shift toward him. A thought crossed his mind instantly—‘Right… devils can understand and be understood in all languages.’

Mikami’s eyes widened slightly. “Wait. You mean the original name of the First Emperor of China? Qin Shi Huang—the guy who unified the land?”