Authors Question: The Possessing Spirit technique of the Niko Style has many different names, tell me which of the following should be used in future chapters;
Possessing Spirit
Possessed By A God
Advance
Life Advance
Anime blasted through Raiden's headphones as he made his way home from campus, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the pavement. His phone was propped in his hand, streaming the episode of Kengan Ashura where Ohma Tokita faced off against Raian Kure.
The moment the two stepped into the arena, something inside him tightened.
Every exchange of blows, every savage grin, every bone-rattling impact sent a thrill through his veins. His pulse quickened, muscles tightening as the fight escalated. He'd always felt it, this pull toward combat. To him, there was nothing more raw, more honest, more electrifying than two fighters clashing with everything on the line.
As Raian unleashed the Removal and Ohma uleashed the Possessed by a God technique, Raiden felt his pulse spiral out of control. His heart pounded so violently it almost hurt, each beat slamming against his ribs like it wanted to break free. The world around him seemed to fade, drowned out by the rhythm thundering in his chest.
The sheer brutality of it, the speed, the overwhelming force, it ignited something deep inside him. The idea of fighting like that, of standing across from someone just as strong and losing himself in the pure thrill of battle, sent a fierce rush through his veins. It was not just entertainment to him. It was intoxicating.
A piercing scream tore Raiden out of his focus. The pounding in his ears was no longer from the episode. It was real.
He paused the video and looked toward a nearby alley. Three guys had two girls from his school cornered against the brick wall. One of them was crying. The other looked frozen in fear.
Raiden did not hesitate. He ripped off his headphones and sprinted toward them.
His love of fighting had never been just talk. He trained. He lifted. He pushed his body until it burned. He had taken up boxing and drilled the basics until they were second nature. He was not a professional, but he was far from helpless.
He closed the distance in seconds. Without slowing down, he drove his shoulder into the nearest guy's chest. The impact sent him crashing backward into the other two, tangling them together as they stumbled.
Raiden planted his feet and turned to the girls, eyes sharp and voice firm.
"Run."
The girls did not need to be told twice. They bolted from the alley, shoes slapping against pavement as they disappeared onto the street.
The three men pushed themselves upright, fury twisting their faces as they watched their chance slip away. Their teeth ground together as their attention shifted back to Raiden.
He met their glare without flinching. A slow, almost taunting smirk tugged at his lips.
"You idiots who corner girls in an alley are worse than dog shit."
The insult landed exactly how he intended. One of them roared and charged, arm drawn back for a wild punch.
Raiden stayed calm. He dipped under the swing with clean, practiced movement, feeling the rush of air over his head. In the same motion, he drove an uppercut straight into the man's exposed chin.
The impact snapped the attacker's head back. His body went limp before he even hit the ground.
The remaining two froze for half a second, staring at their fallen friend. Then their rage deepened into something uglier.
In unison, they reached into their pockets and pulled out knives.
Steel caught the dim light as they advanced together.
The moment the knives came out, Raiden felt it. The shift. The real danger.
Instead of fear, his grin only stretched wider. He lifted one hand and curled his fingers toward himself, silently inviting them forward.
That was all it took.
Snarling, the two men rushed him at once, blades flashing as they closed the distance.
The first lunged straight for his chest.
Raiden reacted instantly. He caught the man's forearm with a firm grip and redirected the momentum, stepping to the side and shoving him past. The attacker stumbled forward, nearly losing his balance.
The second was already there, knife angled for Raiden's throat.
Raiden slipped to the outside, just enough to let the blade slice through empty air. As he moved, he drove a tight right hook into the man's ribs. The punch landed clean. The sound of impact was dull and heavy.
The man wheezed violently, air exploding from his lungs as he folded slightly from the blow.
Raiden did not chase them. He repositioned himself, placing his back toward the alley entrance to keep them in front of him. Step by step, he moved backward, controlled and deliberate, eyes locked on both attackers as they recovered and turned to face him again.
Their glares burned with hatred.
His expression only grew sharper.
The two men quickly realized what he was doing. He was herding them, keeping the open street at his back and denying them any chance to circle around.
Their expressions shifted. The anger was still there, but now it was edged with something darker. Desperation.
With a shout, they rushed him again, knives raised.
Raiden continued to step backward, measured and calm even as they lunged. He watched their shoulders, not the blades. Every twitch, every shift in weight told him where the strike would come from.
Steel sliced through the air again and again. He twisted, slipped, and pivoted, making sure neither of them could flank him.
A blade grazed his side. Another nicked his forearm. Sharp heat flared where the cuts opened, fabric tearing, skin splitting.
But nothing vital. Nothing deep.
He kept moving.
His breathing stayed steady despite the sting of blood trickling down his arm. His focus narrowed, the world shrinking to angles, distance, and timing.
This was no longer chaotic.
It was a rhythm.
He kept the rhythm alive.
Slip. Step. Pivot. Breathe.
Each movement flowed into the next as he edged closer to the mouth of the alley. The knives kept flashing toward him, but he refused to panic. He stayed light on his feet, weaving and angling so neither man could trap him.
Just a few more steps.
Then he heard it.
Footsteps. Fast. Coming from the street.
Raiden glanced over his shoulder and saw another man sprinting toward him, a metal pipe clenched in both hands.
So there was a fourth.
His body reacted before his mind fully processed it. He shifted gears instantly, footwork sharpening as he burst out of the alley. The man with the pipe closed in and swung hard, aiming for Raiden's head.
Raiden dipped under the arc of the strike, feeling the rush of air above him. In the same motion, he seized the attacker's wrist and twisted sharply.
A crack of pain echoed from the man's throat. His grip failed.
The pipe clattered onto the pavement.
Raiden scooped it up without hesitation and hopped back several feet onto the sidewalk, putting space between himself and the alley as all three knife wielders regrouped behind him.
Now the odds were clearer.
Three opponent, two knives. One pipe.
And a street that suddenly felt very small.
All three rushed him at once.
Raiden did not retreat.
The first knife came in low. He swung the pipe downward with both hands, the metal cracking against the attacker's wrist. The blade flew from his grip and skidded across the pavement.
Before the man could recover, Raiden reversed the motion and whipped the pipe in a brutal backhand. It connected with the second attacker's temple. The sound was sickening. The man dropped instantly, crumpling to the ground.
For half a second, Raiden felt control.
Then he realized he had lost sight of the third.
A sudden, searing pain exploded in his lower back.
He gasped, breath hitching violently as cold steel sank into him. His knees threatened to buckle, vision flashing white from the shock.
Instinct took over.
He twisted sharply and drove a spinning back elbow into the attacker's temple with everything he had left. The strike landed clean. The man's eyes rolled back as he collapsed.
Raiden staggered forward, then forced himself to move. He hopped back over the unconscious body, gripping the pipe tightly despite the pain burning through his back.
When he looked up, two of them were still standing.
The one he had disarmed and the one he had knocked down earlier were both on their feet again.
And they were grinning.
Raiden's grin slowly returned.
He lifted a hand and pointed upward toward the power pole behind him. Mounted there, angled toward the street and the alley entrance, was one of the police surveillance cameras recently installed around the city.
The two remaining attackers followed his gesture.
When they understood, the color drained from their faces.
Raiden let out a low, breathless laugh, pain trembling beneath it. Blood was soaking into his shirt now, warm and heavy against his skin. He could feel his strength slipping.
"Since I'm dying here today," he said, voice rough but steady, "I'll make sure one or two of you follow me."
Before either of them could react, he brought his heel down hard on the throat of the unconscious man at his feet. There was a sickening crunch as the windpipe collapsed. The body spasmed once, then went still.
Raiden bent, grabbed the knife from the limp hand, and surged forward.
The first attacker swung wildly. Raiden slipped to the outside and slashed low, the blade carving through the inside of the man's thigh. A strangled scream tore from his throat as blood poured down his leg and he collapsed.
The second lunged in rage, knife cutting downward. Raiden dropped into a roll, the steel missing him by inches. He came up fast, boots scraping against pavement, and charged again.
Another slash came. He shifted just enough to avoid it.
Then he struck.
His blade cut across the man's throat, deep enough.
For a brief moment there was silence.
Then a violent spray of blood burst into the air.
The attacker staggered, clutching at his neck as crimson spilled between his fingers. He fell to his knees, then forward onto the concrete.
Raiden stood there swaying, chest heaving, pipe forgotten behind him. The world felt distant now, muffled.
Sirens wailed somewhere far away.
Raiden staggered toward the wall and let his back hit the brick.
The impact drove the knife wound deeper into his awareness. His legs trembled, then slowly gave out beneath him. He slid down the wall, leaving a dark smear of blood in his wake as his strength bled away with it.
Even now, his smile remained. Wide. Satisfied.
The pipe slipped from his fingers and clattered onto the pavement. The knife followed a second later.
"That was fun," he muttered, breath thin but genuine.
His vision began to blur at the edges. Red and blue lights flashed in the distance as patrol cars rounded the corner, sirens echoing down the street. Through the haze, he saw the two girls pushing past the forming crowd, running straight toward him.
They dropped to their knees beside him, panic written across their faces.
Raiden looked up at them, his eyes soft despite the blood on his lips.
"You're welcome," he whispered.
The world grew heavier. The sounds stretched and warped.
Police officers rushed closer. Voices shouted. Hands reached toward him.
But his neck no longer had the strength to hold his head up. It tilted forward, chin falling to his chest.
The smile never left his face.
His vision finally darkening all the way.
Author's Note
I wrote this chapter and let AI edit, if you like the chapter then be sure to let me know.
Also, this is a harem and I have a list. So if you want me to upload the list, let me know. But be warned, their are some characters on the list who aren't from DxD but they are easy to insert into the world.