Is It Wrong to Be a Devil in a Dungeon? DxD X Danmachi

Isekai Adventure Begins!!

Prologue: 

Max

Max considered himself a decent guy—well, relatively decent, at least. He didn't go out of his way to cause trouble, and he certainly didn't seek out the messy entanglements that seemed to follow most people through life like persistent shadows. Drama? No thanks. Relationships, with their inevitable emotional rollercoasters? Hard pass. Family gatherings, where every conversation was a minefield of passive-aggressive commentary? He'd rather binge an entire anime season in one sitting.

But anime—now that was his one true indulgence, his singular "sin" in an otherwise drama-free existence. As a self-proclaimed super weeb and two-time Otaku League champion, Max wore his obsession like a badge of honor. These days, he was deep into the Isekai genre, living vicariously through protagonists who got whisked away to fantastical worlds filled with magic, adventure, and absolutely zero family drama.

Like countless weebs before him, he'd fantasized about his own Isekai moment, even going so far as to wait outside his high school on the last day, eyes scanning the street for the legendary Truck-kun. But the universe, it seemed, had other plans. No truck came. No portal opened. Just the anticlimactic reality of moving boxes and college brochures.

University began with reluctant acceptance. Max's ambitions were modest: keep his head down, avoid unnecessary entanglements, and maybe—just maybe—start an anime club where he could finally meet his people. Fellow weebs. Kindred spirits who understood the profound philosophical depths of Tensura or Konosuba or EIS and could debate power scaling until 3 AM.

So why, why, was he currently surrounded by the university's gym club?

The gym rats stood around him in a semicircle, all bronzed muscle and protein-shake confidence, spouting their usual mantras about motivation, discipline, and how "gains get you the wins, bro." Max wanted to roll his eyes, but he needed them. They were swimming in funding—easily one of the richest organizations on campus—and several other club enthusiasts had also shown up, all desperately seeking that sweet, sweet sponsorship money.

What followed was exactly the kind of drama Max had spent his entire life avoiding. And yet here he was, about to say yes anyway.

The gym club leader, a guy named Chad (because of course his name was Chad), stood before them with arms crossed and a grin that screamed trouble.

"Alright, losers—I mean, future champions," he announced without an ounce of apology. "Tomorrow marks the beginning of No Nut November. And since we're all about discipline and self-control here at the gym club, here's your challenge: make it through the entire month without nutting."

Max's eye twitched.

"To verify your commitment," Chad continued, flexing unnecessarily, "each of you will room with one of our members. They'll be your accountability partner. Complete the challenge, get their certification at the end, and you'll have our full support—funding, promotion, the works."

It was absurd. It was juvenile. It was exactly the kind of drama Max had promised himself he'd avoid. But as he thought about his fellow weebs out there somewhere, waiting for someone to create a space where they could belong, he felt something shift in his chest—not quite determination, but close enough. He'd survived high school. He'd survived waiting for Truck-kun in vain. He could survive this.

With a resigned sigh that came from somewhere deep in his soul, Max accepted the challenge.

The first week was torture. Every attractive person on campus suddenly seemed to multiply, appearing at every corner like NPCs programmed to test his willpower. But Max pushed through, driven by his dream of packed anime club meetings and passionate discussions about best girls and plot armor.