Deus.Ex.Machina Chapter 7

Lunch ca faster than I expected.

The second the bell rang, Issei shot out of his seat like he was spring-loaded.

"Yo, Leon! You eatin' alone?"

"I was planning on it."

He scoffed like I'd said sothing offensive. "Nah, man. First day vibes, you gotta co sit with the boys. et the squad. We've got premium cafeteria gossip and the best view of the girls' track team from our table."

I stared at him.

"...That last part was supposed to be a selling point?"

"Absolutely!" he grinned, then leaned in like he was sharing a secret. "It's called tradition."

I debated saying no, but then again… it's an opportunity to make friends with the protagonist

"…Fine."

"YES! The prince walks among us!" Issei threw an arm around my shoulder, grinning like he'd just won a lottery, completely ignoring the laser glares coming from at least five nearby guys. "Let's go!"

The infamous Pervert Trio—Issei, Matsuda, and Motohama—were already at a table by the window. Matsuda was halfway through a rant about how society was dood because girls wore shorts now, and Motohama was adjusting his glasses with the seriousness of a man discussing war cris.

"Leon, these are the boys," Issei said proudly. "Guys, this is the new transfer student—Mishima Leon, aka Mr. Tall-Dark-and-Make-All-the-Girls-Swoon."

Matsuda glared. "He is stupidly attractive and filthy rich. I don't like him."

Motohama narrowed his eyes behind his glasses. "Based on my scanning lenses, he's got at least a 98.4% chance of being a ladykiller."

"You have scanning lenses?" I asked, already regretting every decision that led here.

"Don't ask," Issei said, plopping down and tearing into his lunch like he hadn't eaten in weeks. "So, Leon—got a type? You a boobs guy? Thighs? Secretly into glasses girls?"

I blinked slowly. "I'm into peace and quiet." It was both!

"Wow," Matsuda muttered. "Mysterious and emotionally unavailable. Great. That's gonna drive them wild."

Despite their ridiculous antics, it was… weirdly refreshing. The three of them were as normal as it got. Just typical guys, clueless about anything bigger than their next math test or their next embarrassing conversation with a girl.

Just high school stupidity in its purest form.

"You joined any clubs yet?" Issei asked between bites.

"No," I said. "Didn't sign up for any."

"You're missing out. There's one with nothing but hot girls. It's like heaven—except they never let in."

"I'm shocked," I said flatly.

"Right?" he said, missing the sarcasm entirely. "The road is hard for a noble quest to have a harem."

I blinked. "That's your goal in life?"

"Absolutely," he said, beaming with pride. "I'm a man of culture."

Matsuda and Motohama nodded solemnly. "Truly noble."

The rest of the school day passed without incident. I kept my head down, took notes, and quietly absorbed the lessons. So girls glanced over more than once during class, whispering behind hands, but I did my best to ignore it.

When the final bell rang, I was already packing up, aiming to make a clean exit.

"Leon!" Issei's voice cut through the noise of chairs scraping and bags zipping. "Hey, wait up!"

I turned just as he caught up to near the school gates, looking winded despite the short jog. He blinked at the black sedan pulling up to the curb.

"…Dude, seriously?" He tilted his head. "You didn't say you were that kind of rich."

I raised an eyebrow. "What kind of rich?"

"The kind that gets picked up in a car that looks like it belongs in a Yakuza drama," he muttered. "With a driver in a suit and everything."

"I didn't exactly ask for it."

Issei scratched the back of his head and gave a crooked grin. "Man, must be nice. I have to fight off pigeons just to get a seat on the train."

Before I could say anything else, Hayama stepped out from the driver's seat and gave a polite bow, opening the rear door.

Issei stared.

"That guy's definitely not just a driver. He's got the butler vibe. He looks like he's killed soone politely."

I sighed. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Issei grinned and gave a half-salute.

He stepped back, hands in his pockets, already waving off as he turned to leave. I slid into the car and leaned back in the seat. The door closed with a soft thump.

Hayama didn't speak, but the car pulled smoothly into motion.

For a few quiet minutes, I just stared out the window. Kuoh Town blurred past.

Back at the mansion, the house was just as quiet as it had been the past few days. My parents were still away—working, as always.

The silence was familiar.

I headed straight for my room.

Quick check.

The amulet was finished. With a thought I materialized the amulet, exactly how I designed it. I slipped it into my neck, it's not much but for now this will do to protect

The armor and elixir were still in progress, their tirs slowly ticking down.

That left one free slot.

I sat by the window, the light warm against the desk, and let my thoughts wander.

I needed a weapon.

Sothing real. Sothing I could rely on. Preferably sothing that made people think twice before trying anything stupid.

My mind went through a few ideas—nothing stuck. Nothing felt right.

Rhongomyniad, not my cup of tea.

Excalibur, maybe.

Ea? Too much.

Then it ca to .

Laevateinn.

Not the old Norse one—the Type-Moon version. A blade wrapped in flas, made to defy logic and burn through things that shouldn't be burnable. Part sword, part statent. It wasn't subtle, but I didn't need subtle.

A divine construct forged by the planet itself.

I really like it's design, and I'm a sucker for fire type abilities.

I reached into the Workshop.

Knowledge that should be impossible for to know appeared.

The blueprint began sketching itself imdiately—fire curling across the lines, runes flickering into shape with a quiet intensity.

Knowledge that should be impossible for to know appeared.

A small ssage popped up in my vision: Manifestation ti remaining: 300 days.

Almost a year huh. No choice. I need it.

After that, my thoughts drifted back to Kuoh Academy.

To Issei. And his unrelenting, unstoppable, truly awe-inspiring commitnt to being a pervert.

Seriously, it was almost admirable. Almost.

For a second—just a flicker—I had a mont of clarity. I could just say "screw it." Let the canon play out like it's supposed to. Issei would do his thing, beco the Oppai Dragon, attract every dangerous woman within a hundred-mile radius, and punch his way through divine politics with nothing but stubbornness and hormonal drive.

He didn't need .

I could coast. Lie low. Play the rich, quiet kid. Eat good food, wear tailored uniforms, and watch the story unfold from a safe distance like it was so twisted reality show.

But the thought didn't sit right.

Because the truth was, people like didn't get to sit on the sidelines. Not when I had a power like this. Not when I carried the Mishima na—loaded with wealth, legacy, and enough influence to draw attention like blood in the water.

Sooner or later, soone would notice. So devil, fallen angel, or opportunistic god would realize the kind of resources my family controlled. They wouldn't co after for fun—they'd co because they saw an opportunity.

So yeah, maybe I didn't want to be a hero. Maybe I wasn't so chosen protagonist. But that didn't an I could afford to be weak.

I needed to get stronger. Quietly. Efficiently.

While Issei played his chaotic role, I'd prepare for what ca next.

Because power attracts attention. And with everything I had—the Celestial Workshop, the Mishima fortune, the knowledge in my head—it was only a matter of ti before soone ca knocking.

And when they did?

I wanted to be ready for it.