Y/N POV
*KRK*
*BOOM*
*BOOM*
Kicking off at the same time, our feet shattered the delicate tiles as we launched ourselves at each other, leaving webs of cracks on the floor.
The distance between the two of us was reduced to nothing in an instant.
I blinked and a fist appeared only mere centimeters from my face. But at the same time, my fist was also about to collide with Sairaorg's face.
At the last second, we both turned our fists away so they only brushed our faces, instead of ramming full-force into our cheeks.
We flashed past each other and landed back on the ground. My feet landed softly while I heard a boom behind me. I looked back and saw Sairaorg with an arm and knee on the ground.
A superhero landing.
Just then, my right eye twitched and I felt a sting come from right beneath it. I touched my hand to where the sting came from and felt something slightly sticky. I brought my hand away, and on the tip of my finger was a bright red spot of liquid.
My blood. A bleeding cut.
I felt the cut again and confirmed that it was only small, less than an inch in length. Still, it was impressive that he landed a blow on me.
I looked back at Sairaorg. His head was down and his hand was slightly raised. When he raised his head, I could see that there was a red line under his right eye, just like me. Good, I still landed a blow on him.
A ripple of murmurs swept through the crowd. There was no clear winner in this first round.
The corners of my lips curled upwards. This was an interesting fight.
Just who was I facing?
Suddenly, a suffocating aura swept through the room, silencing the crowd. The origin: Sairaorg Bael himself.
He was smiling, just like me. His eyes burned with a love for the fight.
There was no way we were finishing this in only two rounds.
"Again," he said--no, commanded.
Facing a rival that I couldn't easily win over, nor be forced to fight to the death with, I was happy to oblige. "Of course."
Two more webs of cracks appeared as the floor was destroyed just a bit more. In this round, the two of us flashed forward rather than up.
And this time, it was a kick.
I sent a high kick directed at Sairaorg's head. He had the same idea. We met at the center and our legs collided with a boom. I flashed backwards to my starting spot, as did he. Any clothing beneath our knees was obliterated, but our skin was undamaged.
"Again."
Another round, this time a palm strike.
I managed to plant both of my hands on his chest, but before I could push him back, Sairaorg slammed his arms down on mine, which made mine buckle.
He reared his arms backwards and then pushed forward. I crossed my arms in front of me to block. When his palms hit my arms, it felt like an 18-wheeler crashing into me.
I slid backwards about seven paces, carving a long divot into the floor.
There was a slight pulsing ache in my arms when I brought them to my sides. Such pure physical strength was astonishing. Even my usual attacks were always imbued with a bit of magic to boost it.
"1-0," Sairaorg announced. The audience gave him a round of polite applause.
"We're just getting started," I said in return. "Don't get excited just yet."
"Who said I wasn't?"
"Good answer. Again."
We clashed yet again in the middle.
Sairaorg dropped down on his left knee and swung his right leg in a wide arc. I jumped over and landed behind him.
Using momentum from his sweeping kick, Sairaorg rose on his left leg and continued to swing his right leg at my head.
I knew blocking the kick would hurt, so I decided to guide it up and over my head. Sairaorg continued to rotate, and when his back was turned to me, I leapt forward and planted both my feet on his back.
I kicked and did a somersault off his back. Sairaorg stumbled for a couple steps, but didn't lose balance. The crowd gasped.
Sairaorg was frozen for a moment. Was it shock? Fear? An epiphany?
"You. . ." he started. "You are very strong."
"1-1," I responded. "I told you not to get too excited."
He turned around and I almost took a step back.
He wasn't mad. He wasn't sad. And he sure as Hell wasn't scared.
I'd never seen such a genuine smile in the midst of battle before. The sheer joy he garnered from the thrill of the fight translated well into his battle aura; the space around him curved and folded as he smiled.
But I wasn't going to back away. "What's with that look? Finally going crazy? Did I break some winning streak you had? A no-hit streak?"
"That's exactly it," he responded.
"I can't say I feel bad about it, 'cause I don't. Now everyone knows Sairaorg Bael is not invincible. By the way, how famous are you?"
Sairaorg looked to his left and right. The crowd murmured wherever he looked. Some looked worried that Sairaorg might jump at them. Sairaorg raised his hands.
"I do not like to brag; words do not have a place on the battlefield, no matter how little. But for you, I will make an exception. I am Sairaorg Bael, eldest son and heir of the Bael Family. They call me 'The Strongest Youth'; I assume you can already see why. And though I don't think it adds any merit to me, Rias Gremory is my cousin."
Ah, now I get it. The willingness of the crowd to part for just the two of us. The constant murmuring whenever I was able to avoid something or land a hit. The fear and reverence some of these people held in their eyes.
Going along with his nickname, he was probably that guy for the Devils. And everyone knows you don't try to fight that guy.
But I'd already matched or dodged quite a few blows, and even landed one myself.
Then again, Sairaorg wasn't your typical that guy.
I chuckled at his revelation. "No wonder. I knew you were a special one from the moment you first spoke with me. You made it even more obvious with how you got the crowd to part so quickly. So, you're one of the big dogs? No, the biggest."
Sairaorg nodded. "The Strongest Youth."
I smiled. "We're 1-1. Am I putting your title on the line?"
"Yes."
"Then let's settle who's physically stronger with this last round," I said, settling into a fighting stance.
"Yes."
Good.
Neither of us has tried to throw the other to the ground, so that must be the last round. And just like the previous rounds, it didn't matter if you used a conventional move or your own. As long as it's obviously a throw, it's acceptable.
Whoever wins this will be publicly acknowledged as the physically stronger fighter.
I didn't think much of it at first, but now knowing Sairaorg's identity and witnessing how strong he is firsthand, I wanted to try. To topple a king would be very hard. Even if I did lose, at least the crowd knew there was now a close second, and one that had potential to surpass the first in the future. I was fine with that.
Sairaorg surely knew this, knew the threat I posed to his title. He wouldn't care normally, but now that a strong opponent has shown up, one that he wants to beat, he can't help but fight for it.
Truly fight for it.
I didn't wait for any mutual understanding this time. I struck as soon as he got ready.
*BOOM*
*KRK*
Yet again, the force of my kick broke the ground. This time, more so than the others. A clear 3-inch deep footprint surrounded by a web of cracks was left behind at my starting position.
Rushing forward, I turned my torso to the side and pointed my right elbow forward like a battering ram. I wouldn't give him any time to react; I aimed to knock the wind out of Sairaorg before I threw him.
In an instant I reached him.
*PENG*
My elbow hit something that felt like an iron plate, but it offered almost no resistance. I watched Sairaorg's solar plexus cave in as I drove my elbow deep into his torso.
Before the force could knock him away, I wrapped my right arm around his head and grabbed ahold of his right shoulder while my left hand curled under his right forearm and grabbed the cloth on his forearm. Now I had his head hooked in between my chest and upper arm.
I twisted my lower body and slid my right leg towards Sairaorg's right leg. My right foot pushed his right foot out, spreading his legs a bit.
Now I had him.
I kicked Sairaorg's right foot out from under him. Losing one foot on the ground tipped his balance towards me, and he started leaning into my arms.
Using that momentum, I squatted a bit and then dragged his body up and over my right shoulder.
"HEAVE!" I yelled.
I don't know if shouting actually helped. It felt like it did.
When his feet left the ground, and all of his weight was on me, it felt like lifting a boulder that was still connected to the mountain.
I leaned into the throw with all my weight, almost willing my body to be heavier so I could drive Sairaorg into the ground faster.
Now midair and in my grasp, Sairaorg had no way to retaliate. His legs were still up in the air, but his arms were restrained and his back was about to touch the floor.
And that's when everything changed.
Sairaorg's torso, which was hunched over, kind of resembling a 'C', suddenly straightened. Sairaorg slipped his head out from my arms. His legs, which were still straight in the air, suddenly bent at the knee and drove themselves into the ground.
Now his body resembled a sideways 'L', where his body from his feet to his shins was going straight up, but the rest of his body lay flat in the air.
His hands, which hadn't done anything yet, attacked. His left arm went over my right shoulder and grabbed my collar while his right hand grabbed my right forearm with an underhand grip.
Before I could react, Sairaorg pulled me towards him, and then I felt weightless.
Aside from his vice grip, I could only feel a slight gust of wind as he carried me over.
*BOOM*
He slammed me into the ground. And on top of that, he dropped his body right on top of mine, driving his shoulder into my chest.
"*hack**cough*" My sternum bent inwards with a nasty crunch and I spat out blood.
Now a man that weighed as much as a boulder sat on top of me while I lay there with broken ribs. I drew in breaths through shallow sips, but any breathing hurt.
It felt like a thousand tiny knives were stabbing into my chest whenever I took a breath.
Those were definitely the broken bones and cartilage.
As if sensing my pain, Sairaorg rolled off of me. It didn't help much; it still hurt like Hell to breathe.
From the corner of my eye, I saw Sairaorg bent over, coughing.
Haha, so my elbow did something after all.
After a few moments, Sairaorg stood up. "I know I broke something. Let me call a healer."
"Ye--ow. . . yeah. Go ah--ouch. . . ahead," I fought to say.
The healer he called over was Asia. Huh.
"Oh! Y/n!" she exclaimed.
"Don't o--ssss. . . don't open my shirt. It probably looks ter--terrible," I told her.
She nodded and then held her hands over my chest.
'Help me out here Emynth.'
'Already on it. Give it a few.'
She was right. Only a few moments later and I was back to right before my chest caved in. Of course, Twilight Healing didn't restore stamina, so I was still a bit tired, but it was only fair.
I stood up and put my hand on Sairaorg's shoulder. "I admit my defeat. You are the physically stronger one."
"It was a good fight," he said. "You stopped my breathing for some time with your move. Not long enough though."
"I knew it. I should've hit harder."
Sairaorg laughed. "No matter. We still have to settle who is stronger with our Sacred Gears. Let us return to our positions."
Oh yeah. We agreed on that.
"Sure, but let's take a breather."
Short Timeskip
"Are you ready?" Sairaorg asked.
He stood with a large ornate battle-axe in his hand. It had a large lion head emblazoned on the sides of the axe head. There were no decorations on the handle, but on Sairaorg's forearms and hands were a pair of golden gauntlets with claws.
"This is my Sacred Gear, Regulus Nemea. It is a Longinus-type Sacred Gear. It can be an axe or it can be armor, but I rarely use weapons, so I use it as armor. Now is an exception of course," Sairaorg introduced his Sacred Gear.
A Longinus, huh? So it's just about on par with Issei's Boosted Gear? Of course, Sairaorg has had more training than Issei and can bring out more power from his Sacred Gear. But the fact remains that Regulus Nemea is a weapon that can kill gods.
'So what? I've crawled my way up to Longinus-class too.'
'Got any tips?'
'Are you going for a win?'
'Is it possible?'
'Right now? No.'
Oh. Well that was great to hear. But, I don't blame her for thinking that way, given what just happened.
'But forcing a tie? Should be a cakewalk,' Emynth added. 'If he's using an axe, he will most likely hold it over his head and then bring it crashing down on you with all his physical strength. If you want to contest that, you'll have to gather a lot of force and meet him dead-on from underneath.'
'How do I do that? He's got brute strength and gravity on his side.'
'You have two choices. Remember that I am both gun and sword. From where you stand, what will give you the greatest chance against a being of pure brute strength?'
Well, we all know I'm no strong man, so I'll have to go with the gun.
'Give me something for guns.'
'Oh good, I've been wanting to test an experiment. Let's do it now. Follow my instructions very carefully.'
Of all the times?!
'Get your swords out.'
Still, I had no choice but to comply.
I spread out my hands and imagined I was holding a pair of swords with triggers.
As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I felt the cool metal of the hilts in my hand and the curve of the triggers on my index finger. I looked down and there they were, two 18th-century pistol sabers. The left, glowing a light purple, and the right glowing a light white.
The crowd gasped. I was expecting that.
And then the murmuring started. I also expected that.
"No way, it's him."
"But he's supposed to be human. How is he here?"
"Did someone manage to claim him?"
"Rias maybe? Sona?"
I tuned out their voices. It didn't matter what they thought. Right now, I had to show my strength.
'Join the swords together, with the hilts at opposite ends. Look to the left and hold it in front of you vertically.'
I followed her words. I touched the hilt of one sword to the tip of the other, turned to the left, and held them vertically.
'Turn the swords 180 degrees counter-clockwise.'
I turned the swords 180 degrees. I held in my shock as I saw the two tips trace two halves of a circle, joined together where the other started.
'Pull back.'
And I did. And when I did, the space inside the drawn circle was filled with what looked to be an unknown metal. Then the circle became a shallow cylinder made of that same unknown metal.
'Reveal your wings. I'm going to take them off.'
I didn't panic when I heard that, I simply followed directions.
I felt the hot and cold sensations on my back fade away as they floated off and onto the block cylinder I just made.
The ice disassembled and reassembled itself around the metal cylinder. It took the shape of triangular frame underneath the cylinder to support it. The ice also formed on top of the cylinder, into something that looked like a large aiming apparatus. And to finish it all off, the ice turned black to match the color of the unknown metal. The fire inserted itself into the now ice-metal construct, which began to glow red through a few gaps in the ice and metal, and it gave off a soft hum like a machine.
'Now, put the swords together like normal, and touch them to the mechanism while they are pointed in Sairaorg's direction. I'll handle the rest.'
I did as she said. The two sabers fused to the metal cylinder. At this point, I stopped expecting to know what Emynth was planning. Sometimes you just go with the flow.
Emynth flew down from her observatory spot in the ceiling. She flew circles around the fused swords, slowly making her way from the hilt to the tip. As she flew in circles, another metallic cylinder formed around the fused swords. As Emynth worked her way down the blades, the cylinder grew longer and longer.
She kept flying past the tips of the fused swords, extending the cylinder even more. The red energy from within the ice-metal construct flowed into the newly created black cylinder. Red lines spiraled down the new shape.
That's when it hit me. I figured out what Emynth was making.
The frame underneath the construct. The construct that held the red energy. The long cylinder extending from the construct. I took a careful look at the unknown metal. It looked almost futuristic.
If I'm not mistaken, energy should gather inside the large cylinder construct and then shoot out of the long cylinder, the barrel.
Emynth was making a railgun.
'Oh shit. Oh shit oh shit oh shit. You cannot be serious right now!'
'I know you're excited but please don't distract me. I'm almost done.'
I shut up for a moment.
There was a soft whirring sound and a tube slid out of the railgun's main frame. The space inside made it seem like my arm would fit in there.
'It is finished. When you're ready, put on the gauntlet, stick your arm in, twist, and pull the trigger. If you need to aim, it will respond to your thoughts.'
Yes ma'am!
I looked over to Sairaorg, who had been patiently waiting this entire time. "I'm surprised you let me prepare all of this."
He hefted his axe onto his shoulder. "We both should do our best. If this is what it takes, so be it. To be honest, I'm excited to see the final product."
Truly an honorable man, he was.
I put on my gauntlet and pushed my arm into the tube. I twisted and the railgun began to gather energy into the barrel. I willed it to aim upwards and the barrel followed my thoughts.
"What are you doing?" Sairaorg asked in confusion.
"You said you wanted to do our best, right? Then show me how you will epitomize the glorious, majestic burning descent of a falling star. Carve your path from Heaven to Hell, and I will meet you with the burning wrath of six thousand years of desolation," I told him with a smile.
And he smiled back. Of course he would. "I shall take your invitation. I will ask again. Are. You. Ready?"
"Yes."
"Then, let us shine for the last time. You, nameless challenger who has presented me with such a magnificent fight, no matter the outcome, from this moment forth you are my sworn brother. Whoever wishes to find quarrel with you must also find quarrel with me. Let it be known today! With all of the Underworld's prominent youth as our witness."
In response, the crowd raised a toast to acknowledge Sairaorg's words.
"Now fly, little lion. Show me your majesty," I said.
Without any more words, Sairaorg gripped his axe and squatted down.
Suddenly, the remaining clothing on his legs were ripped to shreds. His muscles pulsed with virility and were taut with an animalistic force bursting to be unleashed.
*BOOOOOM*
Sairaorg soared, leaving a crater in his wake. He burst through the ceiling, the roof, and kept going. We all stared through the hole in the ceiling. At the crest of his jump, he raised the axe over his head. Sairaorg was just a dot in the sky now.
And then gravity took over.
I looked through the aiming apparatus which was already calculating Sairaorg's descent.
Charge: 100%
All Systems Ready
Calculating ideal impact point. . . Calculated.
Time to impact: 6 seconds
Ready to Fire
I watched Sairaorg fall and get closer to the impact point. The red energy coalesced into the barrel.
5
Sairaorg's axe erupted into flames.
4
I put my finger on the trigger.
3
Sairaorg's muscles rippled with power.
2
I let out a deep breath.
1
Sairaorg smiled.
0
I pressed the trigger.
Firing. Danger close.
*CRACKLE*
*BAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANNGG*
It reached Sairaorg in an instant.
He saw it coming. "SHAAATTTTERRRRRRR!!!!" he shouted.
His axe cleaved into the shot.
*FWWWIIIIIIIIIPPPPP*
The collision of two God-killing weapons created a singularity at the point of impact.
It absorbed all the flames and red energy into a single white point. Then the singularity erupted in a grand explosion that consumed the space around it.
*BOOOOOOOOOOMM*
Sairaorg was sent flying back. The railgun disintegrated and the force of the explosion also threw me back. Luckily my swords survived and simply dematerialized . The crowd panicked and evacuated the scene.
Finally, the adults stepped in and contained the explosion and caught me and Sairaorg. They brought the two of us to a healer. As they carried the two of us, I looked back and saw the aftermath of the singularity.
What I saw made me thankful that I was thrown like a ragdoll. It was much better than the alternative.
After Sairaorg and I were thrown backwards, the singularity's explosion kept growing and growing. It ate up the ground and vaporized all matter it consumed. When the adult took care of it, what was left behind was a crater that was an entire man deep. The ground left behind was burnt black, but also smoothly crystallized by the singularity.
I can't imagine what it could've done to a person, Devil or not.
While the healers tended to us, I watched as one of the adult Devils flew into the air, in view of everyone. "Attention please!" they shouted.
Everyone looked.
"I'm sure you've all been wanting to know the decision. Well, it is my pleasure to formally declare. . ."
Their words left us on tenterhooks.
"This match is a tie!"
To be continued. . .
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A/N: If anyone would like an image of what the railgun is supposed to look like, here is the Black Barrel from Fate/Grand Order.