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

Chapter 3

Max

Three days passed in focused determination.

Max stood in the desert outside the village, far enough that no one would witness his training but close enough to respond if needed. The sun beat down mercilessly, sweat beading on his forehead despite his enhanced resilience. Crimson energy crackled around his right hand as he fired another concentrated blast of Power of Destruction at the sand dunes. The sand didn't explode or scatter—it simply ceased to exist, erased from reality as if it had never been there, leaving only a perfectly smooth cavity and the faint smell of ozone.

This pattern had defined the past seventy-two hours. The days had been peaceful in the sense that no crises had emerged, but Max had used every waking moment to grind his skills like a protagonist on a training arc montage, methodically building his capabilities one grueling session at a time.

His nights were dedicated to meditation and aura suppression. Hour after hour, Max visualized his magical output as a sphere of energy—bright, pulsing, impossible to miss—and systematically worked to compress it inward. Shrinking that sphere, reducing the ambient magic he leaked into his surroundings, suppressing his devil aura like Frieren controlling her mana. The process was exhausting, mentally draining work that left him with pounding headaches, but the results spoke for themselves. After three days of relentless practice, many meditation sessions, and more than a few frustrating setbacks, he'd finally hit his current limit: ten percent of his original output.

Not bad, he thought, even as he acknowledged it was probably nothing compared to what actual Devils in DxD could manage. But this was Danmachi, not DxD, and his hax abilities would only take him so far. He needed every advantage he could develop, and progress was progress—no matter how incremental.

The daylight hours brought a different kind of training. Max ventured deep into the desert to practice his offensive capabilities away from prying eyes, where the only witnesses were sand and the occasional startled lizard. The Power of Destruction came first—his clan trait, instinctive and responsive. The meditation had helped him refine his control significantly, allowing him to modulate the output, create concentrated beams or wide-area bursts, even shape the destructive energy into temporary constructs before releasing them. The crimson-black energy responded to his will like an extension of his thoughts, growing more refined with each practice session.

Building on that foundation, Max explored the five basic elements next—fire, water, earth, wind, and lightning—all accessible through the magical knowledge embedded in his devil body. Some spells came pre-loaded in his memories, complete with incantations and hand gestures, but Max discovered he could also improvise new techniques by understanding the underlying principles. Magic in this body was surprisingly intuitive once he stopped overthinking it, flowing naturally when he trusted his instincts.

One spell in particular made him grin with anticipation: barriers. The ability to create magical shields and protective fields would be an absolute cheat code in this world, especially when combined with his other abilities. Barriers could block physical attacks, deflect magic, create enclosed spaces, even trap enemies if he got creative enough. The tactical applications were endless.

And finally, there was teleportation—perhaps the most broken ability in his entire arsenal. Max practiced until the crimson magic circles glowing beneath his feet became second nature, the world blurring for just a split second before he stood fifty feet away. This is no doubt a complete hack of the system, he thought gleefully. If he had an inventory system to go with it, he'd be the ultimate utility hax in Danmachi history, though he had to make do with his storage bag for now.