DW DXD Chapter ??? The Red Emperor’s Disciple Chapter 1

The Future

The night sky above the sleepy little village of Ansel was clear, painted in endless shades of midnight blue. The Arc family’s farmlands stretched out like a quilt of shadows beneath the stars, quiet save for the faint rustling of wheat in the summer wind.

Fifteen-year-old Jaune Arc sat on a patch of cool grass atop of a hill near his home, in the outskirts of Ansel, knees pulled close to his chest, his blond hair reflecting faint silver from the moonlight. His blue eyes, usually so full of clumsy warmth, now brimmed with something heavier—frustration, sorrow, and the helpless ache that came with dreams denied.

He had tried again tonight. Once more, standing before his father and mother with a stubborn tremble in his voice, he’d asked for training. Not chores, not more lectures about responsibility, but real guidance, the kind his ancestors must have received. The kind heroes received. And once again, they had turned him away.

‘Why won’t they even try?’ Jaune thought bitterly, fingers digging into the earth. ‘It’s not like I’m asking for a weapon or to fight a Grimm today. I just… I just want to be prepared. I want to prove I’m not useless.’

The echo of his mother’s worried voice replayed in his head: “Jaune, you’re too young. You’re not ready for that kind of life.”

And his father’s firm dismissal: “A huntsman’s path is dangerous. Forget this nonsense. Focus on something else. That’s what matters.”

Their words carved deeper than any blade. His chest burned with the weight of rejection. For years, he had carried their name, their legacy, like a distant shadow. “Arc” was supposed to mean something. Heroes in shining armor. Noble protectors. Warriors who stood tall even in the darkest nights.

So why not him?

“Am I really that weak?” Jaune whispered into the night, his voice catching in his throat. “Do they really think… I’m nothing special?”

The stars above twinkled indifferently, each distant light a reminder of just how small he was. His shoulders sagged as bitterness threatened to drown him.

And then—something strange.

Out of the eternal darkness, one star burned brighter than the rest. A crimson ember streaked across the heavens, carving a scar of red fire through the night sky. Jaune’s breath caught in his chest.

“A shooting star…” He murmured, his voice hushed with awe.

It was beautiful, unlike any he had ever seen. Almost instinctively, he closed his eyes and pressed his hands together, whispering his wish with all the force of his aching heart.

“I… I want to be a hero.” His words trembled as he forced them out. “Please. Just give me the chance to prove myself. I’ll do anything.”

The night was silent for a moment..

When Jaune opened his eyes, his heart nearly stopped.

The crimson streak wasn’t fading into the horizon like any shooting star should. No… it was growing larger, closer. Its glow shifted from a soft red glimmer to a blazing, fiery light, tearing across the atmosphere with terrifying speed.

“…Wait,” Jaune muttered, his eyes going wide. “Wait—that’s not… that’s not right!”

The “star” was heading straight for him.

Panic clawed up his throat. He scrambled to his feet, stumbling in the grass, his heart hammering so loudly he swore it drowned out everything else.

“No, no, no, no!” He shouted, legs pumping as he bolted down the hill. “That’s not a star—that’s—oh Dust, it’s coming right at me!”

The glow behind him grew brighter, a burning red that cast monstrous shadows of the wheat fields around him. Jaune’s lungs screamed for air as he sprinted, arms flailing, every instinct shrieking at him to run faster.

‘I’m too young to die! I haven’t even kissed a girl yet!’

The ground shuddered. A deafening roar ripped through the night as the fiery object descended like judgment from the heavens.

Jaune dared a glance back, and his stomach flipped. The star—no, the meteor—was massive now, wrapped in flames, tearing through the air with the sound of ripping thunder.

“I take it back!” Jaune wailed at the sky as he ran. “I didn’t mean it! I don’t wanna be a hero if it means getting crushed!”

His legs burned, his lungs ached, but terror drove him onward. He didn’t even know where he was running to, home, the woods, anywhere but here. The grass and dirt tore beneath his boots as he sprinted for his life, praying to every deity he could think of.

Behind him, the world seemed to ignite.

The earth shook as the impact ripped through the quiet night. The once serene hilltop was obliterated—trees splintered like matchsticks, earth churned and torn, fire spreading in flickering waves across dry grass. A thunderous shockwave rolled down into Ansel, rattling windows and sending livestock into a frenzy.

Dogs barked, horses neighed and bucked, chickens scattered. Families rushed out of their homes, faces pale with fear, clutching lanterns that bobbed in the darkness. Mothers pulled children close, fathers grabbed makeshift weapons.

“By the Brothers, what was that?!”

“Something hit the north hill!” 

“Grimm? Was it a stampede?!”

“Get the guards! NOW!”

Fear spread like wildfire through the village, whispers escalating into shouts. Everyone imagined the same horror—a massive Grimm crashing into their doorstep.

And yet, in the middle of it all, Jaune Arc was still alive.

He staggered forward, coughing as smoke stung his lungs. His body trembled, legs weak, and for a fleeting moment he thought he was already dead. But as his hand pressed against something solid and cool, he realized what had saved him. A tree—one of the oldest oaks on the hill—still stood proud despite the inferno, its trunk blackened but intact. He had instinctively thrown himself against its far side when the meteor struck, the thick bark shielding him from the brunt of the blast.

His knees buckled, but Jaune forced himself to stand. His heart hammered like a drum inside his chest. Every instinct screamed to run back home, to get away from the flames and chaos.

But something pulled him forward.

Curiosity—or maybe fate.

‘I should leave. I should go warn everyone. This is dangerous. Really dangerous. But… what if it’s something else?’

Swallowing the lump in his throat, Jaune stepped toward the crater. The air was suffocating, hot enough that the edges of his clothes threatened to singe. Each step crunched over shattered rocks, smoldering debris, and scorched grass. His sweat sizzled against the heat, and still he pressed forward, covering his mouth with his sleeve.

When he finally reached the edge of the crater, his eyes widened.

It wasn’t just a rock.

Lying in the center, half-buried in the cracked earth, was a boy—older than Jaune by a few years, maybe seventeen or eighteen. His short brown hair clung to his forehead, damp with sweat and grime. He also saw a futuristic watch on his right arm, smoking and cracking electricity. His black pants were strangely untouched by fire, though his shirt hung in tatters, revealing deep cuts and scrapes across his body. Blood stained his skin, but there were no burns—not even a scorch mark from the flames that licked at the dirt around him.

Jaune’s breath caught.

‘How…? He fell from the sky. Nothing could survive that. So… why’s he still here? Still whole?’

But before he could do anything more, the air shifted.

A low growl rolled across the smoke-choked night, primal and hungry. Jaune froze. Slowly, he turned his head—and his heart sank into his stomach.

Out of the burning treeline, eyes gleamed like lanterns. Red. Dozens of them.

Beowolves.

The first padded into the clearing, its black fur bristling, bone mask gleaming white in the firelight. Behind it, more stalked forward, claws dragging against scorched earth. They had come like moths to a flame—drawn by the destruction, by the fear, by Jaune’s gnawing despair that hadn’t yet faded.

His pulse spiked.

“No, no, no…” Jaune whispered, stumbling back.

There were at least dozens. Maybe more, slipping between the flames, circling, waiting. Their growls filled the night, low and eager, vibrating in his bones.

His eyes darted to the unconscious boy in the crater. Helpless. Vulnerable.

‘I can’t fight them. I don’t have a sword, I don’t even know how to use one. I’m… I’m just me.’

Jaune’s hands shook as he backed away, heart hammering. Instinct screamed at him to run, to save himself. And yet his feet refused to move.

‘I'm going to die. What should I do?’

One Beowolf snarled, its fangs flashing as it lunged a step forward, testing him. Jaune flinched, raising his arms uselessly.

The Beowolves started moving, encircling the fire, painting their shadows against the ruined hill.

And Jaune Arc, fifteen years old, stood trembling between them and the boy who had fallen from the sky.

The Beowolves crept closer, their claws scraping against scorched earth, their snarls building in unison like some monstrous chorus. Their red eyes glowed, reflecting the fire that licked at the crater’s edges. Jaune’s knees shook, his palms sweaty as he gripped his empty fists.

‘I can’t do this. I can’t fight them. If I run—if I just sprint for Ansel, Mom and Dad will protect me. They always do. I can get home, lock the doors, and pretend none of this happened.’

The thought tempted him, a lifeline in the face of certain death. His eyes darted down the hill, picturing his family, picturing safety.

But then—

A low groan echoed behind him.

Jaune’s eyes widened, whipping his head back toward the crater. The boy. The stranger who had fallen from the sky. He was alive. Barely, but alive.

‘If I run… they’ll tear him apart before he even wakes up.’

The image hit him like a knife. He could already picture it—snarling teeth, snapping jaws, blood soaking into scorched dirt. His stomach churned.

“No…” Jaune muttered under his breath, the fear in his chest twisting into something sharper. “I can’t… I won’t. Not if I want to be a hero.”

He wasn’t cruel enough to abandon someone who couldn’t defend themselves. Even if it meant standing against monsters with nothing but his trembling hands.

Thinking fast, his eyes darted around the ruined clearing. There—half-buried in the dirt, a broken branch from one of the shattered trees. He snatched it up with both hands, its weight clumsy and unbalanced, but it was something. He raised it before him like a sword, planting his feet between the unconscious boy and the pack.

His heart thudded wildly. His throat was dry.

‘This is stupid. I don’t know how to fight. I don’t even have training. One swipe and I’m dead. But… if I’m going to die, I’m going to die standing between him and them.’

The Beowolves growled louder, lips curling back to reveal jagged fangs. The lead wolf crouched low, muscles bunching for the leap.

“Come on then,” Jaune whispered shakily, his voice trembling as much as his grip. “If I’m going down, I’m going down trying.”

The Grimm lunged.

Jaune’s eyes squeezed shut—

And then, a firm hand landed on his shoulder.

His eyes shot open, his breath caught in his throat.

The boy, the one who had fallen from the heavens, was standing. Wounded, torn, barely able to stay upright, but standing nonetheless. His brown hair hung low, shadowing his face. His presence radiated something Jaune couldn’t name—like the calm before a storm.

“Y-you’re—” Jaune stammered, but the boy didn’t answer.

The teen tilted his head upward, and for the first time Jaune saw his eyes. Emerald. Brilliant, piercing, glowing faintly against the firelight. They weren’t the eyes of someone half-dead. They were sharp, alive, and filled with a weight Jaune couldn’t comprehend.

And then… it happened.

Jaune’s pupils shrank. His stomach twisted as a wave pulsed outward from the stranger, invisible yet crushing. It pressed against his chest, against his lungs, like gravity itself had spiked. His vision swam, his head lightened, and he staggered back, almost collapsing.

‘What—what is this? This pressure… it’s like my body doesn’t even belong to me anymore…’

He fought to steady himself, forcing a deep breath. The dizziness passed, but the world still felt heavy, warped by the boy’s presence.

When Jaune’s eyes darted back to the pack, his jaw nearly dropped.

The Beowolves had frozen mid-charge. Their growls choked into whimpers, their claws rooted to the ground as though shackled by chains unseen. Their glowing eyes flickered with something Jaune had never seen in Grimm before—fear.

And then, one by one, they began to unravel.

Their blackened bodies shuddered, broke apart, and dissolved into dust, carried off by the night wind until nothing remained but silence and scorched earth.

Jaune’s arms fell limply to his sides, the branch slipping from his sweaty palms. His mind spun, his body trembling with shock.

“What… what just happened?” Jaune breathed, his voice a thin thread of sound. He turned, staring wide-eyed at the stranger. “How did you—what are you?”

But the boy didn’t answer.

The emerald light in his eyes dimmed and changed into chocolate brown, his body swaying like a tree ready to fall. His wounds, exhaustion, whatever power he had unleashed—it had drained him completely.

“Wait—hey!” Jaune exclaimed, dropping the branch as he lunged forward.

The boy’s legs gave way, collapsing forward. Jaune caught him awkwardly, arms straining under his weight. His knees buckled, but he held firm, gritting his teeth.

“You can’t… just do something like that and then pass out!” Jaune’s voice shook, half in fear, half in desperation. “Don’t you dare die on me after all that! Not after I—”

He stopped, realizing his heart was pounding so loudly it was all he could hear. The boy’s breathing was shallow but steady against his chest. Alive.

Jaune sat there in the burning crater, holding a stranger who had fallen from the sky and turned Grimm to dust with nothing but his presence. His body trembled with exhaustion, his mind overflowing with questions.

Jaune’s arms strained under the boy’s weight. He could feel the warmth of the stranger’s body against him, the faint but steady rise and fall of his chest. Relief had barely settled into his bones when the crackling of fire and his own ragged breathing was drowned out by something else—voices. Many of them.

His heart leapt in panic. For a split second, he thought more Grimm were coming. But as he lifted his head, squinting through the smoke and shifting shadows, he saw lanterns bobbing in the darkness. Not glowing red eyes. Lanterns.

“Jaune!”

The sound of his name, sharp and frantic, made his chest tighten. His breath came out shaky. ‘Mom? Dad?’

He turned just in time to see his parents breaking away from the crowd rushing up the hill. His mother, Gabriel, moved faster than anyone else. The elegant, stern woman who so often carried herself with unshakable composure now looked wild with fear, her skirts catching against the grass as she sprinted.

“Jaune!” She cried again, falling to her knees beside him before he could say a word. Her hands grasped his shoulders, running over his arms, his face, checking every inch of him like he was made of glass. “Are you hurt? What happened? By the Brothers, what were you thinking coming here alone?! Who is this? Who is this boy?!”

“M-Mom, I’m fine!” Jaune said quickly, trying to keep his voice steady despite the exhaustion weighing on him. “I swear, I’m okay. Just—just listen for a second!”

But Gabriel’s eyes were locked onto the unconscious teen in his arms, her face twisting with confusion. “Jaune, what have you gotten yourself into?”

He tightened his hold on the boy protectively, despite not knowing why. Maybe it was instinct, maybe it was guilt, or maybe it was because he couldn’t just let the stranger who saved him be treated like a threat. “Mom, please! He’s not dangerous, he saved me! There were Grimm, a whole pack, and I—”

Gabriel froze, her grip on Jaune’s shoulders tightening. “Grimm? Here?!” Her voice broke with fear, her eyes darting around the burning hilltop. “You… you fought Grimm?! Alone?!”

“N-No! I didn’t fight them,” Jaune admitted quickly, shame twisting his stomach. “I couldn’t… I don’t even know how to defend myself. But he—” He nodded toward the boy— “he stood up. And then… I don’t even know how, but the Grimm just—just disappeared. Turned to dust. He saved my life, Mom.”

Gabriel stared at him like she didn’t know whether to believe him or scold him. Her hands shook as they clutched Jaune’s face, and for a moment her fear outweighed everything else. “You could have been killed, Jaune. Killed.”

“I know,” Jaune whispered. “But… I couldn’t leave him behind.”

Before Gabriel could reply, the rest of the crowd arrived—villagers and guards, neighbors who had seen the fiery descent. They stopped at the crater’s edge, staring wide-eyed at the destruction.

“Sweet Oum…” someone whispered.

“It’s like a bomb went off…” another muttered.

“Jaune?! What are you doing here?”

Then their eyes fell on the boy in Jaune’s arms.

“Is… is that a person?” 

“A boy?”

The murmurs spread quickly, nervous glances exchanged in the flickering firelight.

Jaune swallowed hard. His throat felt dry, but he forced himself to speak, his voice carrying despite the tremor in it. “It wasn’t me. It was him. He’s the one who… who made the crater. But he’s also the one who saved me. If it weren’t for him, I’d…”

The adults fell silent, their disbelief plain on their faces.

“Saved you?” One man repeated, his brow furrowed.

“That boy caused… this?” Another muttered, gesturing to the smoking crater.

Jaune nodded firmly, hugging the stranger closer. “Yes. I know it sounds crazy, but it’s true.”

At that moment, Leon Arc finally pushed through the crowd. Unlike Gabriel, his expression wasn’t frantic—it was steady, controlled, though his eyes betrayed the fear that had nearly broken him on the run up the hill. His gaze swept over Jaune, lingering on the scratches and ash on his clothes, then dropped to the boy in his arms.

“This stranger…” Leon said slowly, his deep voice carrying authority that silenced the crowd. “Did he save you, my son?”

Jaune nodded quickly. “Yes, Dad. If it weren’t for him, the Grimm would’ve killed us. Please—he needs help. Can we take him home?”

Gabriel’s head snapped toward her husband, her eyes blazing. “Leon, we don’t know who he is! He could be dangerous. He could be…”

Leon met her glare evenly. “Dangerous or not, he saved Jaune. That’s all that matters.”

“But—” Gabriel began, only for Leon to gently but firmly cut her off with a raised hand.

“We’ll take him back. He’ll get a doctor’s check-up. If he’s a threat, we’ll deal with it then. But I won’t turn away the boy who kept our son alive.”

Jaune’s chest tightened with gratitude, even as his mother’s face hardened into a glare sharp enough to cut stone. Gabriel looked from her husband to her son, to the boy in Jaune’s arms, her jaw clenched tight.

Finally, she exhaled a trembling breath and muttered, “…Fine. But only after the doctor sees him. And Jaune—” she fixed him with a fierce, trembling gaze— “you are never to run off into danger like this again. Do you understand me?”

Jaune swallowed, nodding quickly. “Y-Yes, Mom.”

Leon placed a hand on his son’s shoulder, steady and grounding. “Good. Now, let’s get him inside before the fire spreads.”

As the villagers began to disperse, murmuring uneasily about the night’s events, Jaune held the unconscious boy a little tighter. His body ached and his mind reeled with questions.

—----------------------------------------------------

The walk back to the Arc household felt longer than any trek Jaune had ever made. His arms ached from carrying the stranger’s limp body, but he refused to let go. Leon eventually stepped in, lifting the boy with ease, yet even then Jaune refused to stray more than a step away. His eyes darted constantly to the unconscious teen, as if afraid that if he blinked, the boy would vanish—or worse, stop breathing.

By the time they reached the Arc family’s home, the whole village was awake. Lanterns lit the streets, neighbors whispering as they watched Leon carry the mysterious boy past. Jaune could hear every word, the doubts and fears like stones thrown at his back.

Jaune clenched his fists but said nothing. For once, he wasn’t thinking about the embarrassment of being at the center of gossip. All he could think about was how pale the stranger looked under the lantern light.

Inside, the household was chaotic. Gabriel barked orders to Jaune’s sisters to fetch clean water, towels, and spare blankets. Leon laid the boy carefully on a couch in the sitting room, the fire crackling faintly in the hearth.

Moments later, the village doctor, an older man with round spectacles and perpetually ink-stained fingers, rushed in with his bag. He muttered under his breath as he examined the boy, his hands surprisingly steady as he cleaned wounds and pressed against ribs.

Jaune hovered nearby like a shadow, wringing his hands, his heart pounding each time the doctor frowned or hummed thoughtfully.

“Well?” Jaune finally asked, unable to bear the silence. “Is he going to be okay?”

The doctor sighed, pulling his spectacles lower on his nose. “Strange case, this one. Cuts and bruises aplenty, but nothing life-threatening. Exhaustion is what’s keeping him under. Oddly enough…” He trailed off, pressing two fingers against the boy’s arm. “…no burns. Not even singed hair, despite falling from the sky in a ball of fire. That’s… unnatural.”

Gabriel stood with her arms crossed tightly, lips pursed, her eyes flicking to Leon as if to say See? This is exactly what I feared.

“But he’ll live, won’t he?” Jaune pressed.

“Yes,” The doctor admitted, closing his bag. “He just needs rest. Keep him hydrated. Watch for fever. Beyond that… it’s out of my hands.”

As the doctor excused himself, Jaune sank into a chair beside the couch, leaning forward, elbows on his knees. He studied the boy’s face—the faint lines of strain, the way his chest rose and fell. ‘Who are you?’ Jaune thought.

Behind him, his parents’ voices drifted low, meant to be private but clear enough for Jaune’s ears.

“This is madness,” Gabriel hissed, her voice sharp with worry. “Leon, we don’t know who he is. He could be dangerous. You saw that crater. No ordinary boy survives something like that.”

Leon’s reply was calm, steady, as always. “I saw a boy save our son. That’s all I need to know for now.”

“You’re letting sentiment cloud your judgment,” she shot back. “Yes, he saved Jaune—but at what cost? We bring a stranger into our home, a stranger capable of… of whatever that was, and we’re putting all of us at risk. Our children, Leon. Our family.”

Leon’s tone grew firmer, that iron edge that made even Gabriel pause. “Gabriel. He’s a child. Wounded. Unconscious. If we turn him away, we condemn him to die. And I won’t teach our son that saving lives is conditional.”

Jaune’s chest tightened at those words. His father’s voice carried weight—calm, resolute, the same voice Jaune had always admired but never quite felt like he could live up to.

Gabriel’s response was quieter this time, tinged with something Jaune rarely heard in her—fear. “And what if he brings more danger to our doorstep? What if this… boy is a herald of something worse?”

For a moment, silence stretched. Only the crackle of the fire and the steady breathing of the sleeping stranger filled the room.

Finally, Leon exhaled through his nose. “Then we face it together. But for now, he stays.”

Gabriel muttered something under her breath, but Jaune didn’t catch it. He leaned back in his chair, exhaustion creeping over him at last. But he refused to leave. His mother could glare, his father could insist, the village could whisper, but none of it mattered. He was going to be here when the boy woke up.

—--------------------------------------

The early morning light filtered in through the Arc household windows, warm golden rays spilling across the wooden floors. Birds were already singing outside, the sounds of Ansel’s quiet life returning after the chaos of last night. The house itself was still, save for the faint creak of wood and the occasional soft snore of a sibling upstairs.

Jaune stirred awake in the sitting room, his neck stiff from where he’d fallen asleep slumped in a chair beside the couch. His hand was still half-reaching out toward the boy who had been resting there. The memories of fire, Grimm, and emerald eyes came rushing back in a foggy haze.

‘Was it all real?’ He wondered, blinking groggily. ‘Or did I dream it?’

Then came the sound. A sharp clink of porcelain against wood. Followed by the slurp of milk.

Jaune’s eyes snapped open fully. He rubbed at them, listening carefully. That was the kitchen. Someone was in the kitchen.

‘Great. Just what I need. More Grimm? A thief?’ He jolted upright, panic tightening in his chest. ‘No, stupid, Grimm, don't eat cereal.’

He pushed himself to his feet and tiptoed toward the sound, each step creaking against the old floorboards. His heart raced faster the closer he got.

And then, when he peeked around the corner—

He froze.

The mysterious boy. The one who had fallen from the sky. The one Jaune had nearly died to protect. He was… standing there. Upright. Very much awake.

And very casually eating a bowl of cereal at the family table.

The boy’s brown hair was still messy, hanging over his forehead, but his brown eyes were calm and sharp even in their casual focus on the spoon in his hand. His black pants were intact, though his shirt had been swapped out for a plain one of Jaune’s spares. He looked like he’d simply woken up from a nap rather than, you know, survived a meteor crash.

For a long moment, neither of them spoke.

The boy crunched down on a spoonful of sugary flakes. Jaune just stared.

Finally, the boy tilted his head lazily, swallowed, and said with a casual grin, “Yo.”

Jaune’s mouth opened and closed. He blinked once. Twice. Then the words tumbled out in a stunned rush: “You’re… alive!”

The boy chuckled, the sound light and oddly reassuring. He lowered the spoon back into the bowl. “Heh. Thanks for noticing. And thanks for hauling me out of that crater, by the way. Could’ve gone really bad if you left me there.”

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, his cheeks flushing. “I—I didn’t really do much. You’re the one who saved us in the end. I was just… there.”

The boy leaned back slightly, a smile tugging at his lips. “Don’t sell yourself short. You picked up a stick and stood between me and that pack of animals. You didn’t run. That’s not nothing, you know. That’s courage, though it was weird that they disappeared like that.”

Jaune swallowed hard, the words striking deeper than he expected. Courage? Me? His parents’ dismissals from yesterday echoed in his head, the way they insisted he wasn’t ready, wasn’t strong enough. And yet this stranger—this boy who had turned Grimm to dust with nothing but his presence—was saying otherwise.

“…Thanks,” Jaune mumbled, glancing down at the floorboards.

For a moment, silence lingered between them. Then, as if remembering something, the boy straightened slightly and set his spoon down. He gave Jaune a grin that was warm but mischievous at the edges.

“Oh, right. Guess I should introduce myself properly.” He held out a hand, casual as anything. “Name’s Issei. Issei Hyoudou. Nice to meet you.”

Jaune blinked at the hand, then back at the boy’s face. His heart skipped—he wasn’t sure if it was from relief, nerves, or still trying to process the insanity of last night. Slowly, he reached out and shook it.

“Jaune,” he said softly, then more firmly, “Jaune Arc. It’s… nice to meet you too, Issei.”

As their hands clasped, Jaune couldn’t shake the thought that this was the beginning of something far larger than either of them yet understood.

Finally done, tell me what you think as this will be its own story while tied to Dimensional Watch DXD. What ability did Issei use to save Jaune?