After the flurry of setup with Clara and Alice, Iruma felt an unease tugging at his senses—an instinct he could no longer ignore.
"Ali-san…" he whispered under his breath.
A soft swirl of energy flowed from the Ring of Gluttony, forming a small holographic arrow visible only to Iruma.
"A trail, huh…?" Iruma muttered, narrowing his eyes. He followed it, weaving through narrow halls and rusted doors until the arrow flickered to a halt before an old, seemingly unused classroom wall.
With a soft pulse of chakra and magic, the wall creaked open.
The space beyond was dim, layered with dust and humming with old energy.
Kirio stood inside, leaning on a crooked desk surrounded by half-assembled magical machinery. His grin widened as he turned.
"Ah, Iruma-kun! You found my secret lair! Welcome to the Magical Tools Graveyard!"
Strange devices crackled quietly around the room—spheres, gears, crystalline conductors. Kirio spun dramatically.
"Pretty cool, right? My bro told me about this place. It's where previous members of our battler hid their failed, banned, or too-powerful inventions. Stuff even the teachers don't know about!"
Iruma's Rinnegan swirled faintly in his eyes, unseen beneath his calm face. He's excited… but something's fractured. His aura feels… split, like multiple motives fighting inside one body.
Kirio gestured toward a narrow hall. "Come, check this out."
At the end of it was a large, one-way window, dark-tinted and overlooking the entire courtyard like a watchtower. From here, students looked like dots, indistinguishable by rank or name.
Kirio's voice turned solemn. "From up here, everyone's the same. You can't see who's weak or strong, noble or poor. No judgment. Just… possibilities."
Iruma stayed quiet, his eyes scanning the room, the machines, and Kirio's shifting mood.
Then, in a tone devoid of emotion—but heavy with intent—Iruma asked:
"If you want to show what you've built… why not aim for the Special Award? You'd be the leader. You'd get recognized. Isn't that the dream?"
Kirio blinked, surprised by the straightforwardness… then smiled, a little too wide.
"Heh. You really get me, Iruma-kun. We're a perfect pair, aren't we? You—our battler's gentle heart, and me—the hands that build the future."
His voice dropped low as he leaned in.
"Keep this room between us, okay?"
Iruma nodded silently, and together they walked out into the light again.
—
Back in the courtyard, Clara had gone… creative.
The firework cannon now looked like a fever dream: covered in bows, plushies, flowers, and pink ribbon spirals.
"Ta-daaa!" she shouted, hopping on one leg. "I call it 'Boom-Boom Love-Kaboom Flower-Cannon!'"
Alice stood nearby with a resigned sigh, arms crossed.
"She… won't let me stop her."
Kirio tilted his head, genuinely impressed. "Actually, it's got flair. Makes it stand out."
"SEE?!" Clara beamed, hugging the cannon.
Suddenly, a voice crackled from the speakers overhead.
"Attention all students! The Battler Party is just one night away! Get ready to show your passion, your pride, and your chaos!"
As cheers echoed through the school, Iruma stood quietly, gaze lingering toward the towers.
Something feels off. And yet… I'm not sure what.
The sky shifted into deep violet as dusk approached, the peaceful surface of Babyls hiding the danger lurking beneath.
---
The sun hadn't fully risen when the Misfit Class was summoned to an open training ground near the Tower of Pride. The air was unusually still—until the sound of sharp, commanding footsteps echoed across the stone floor.
"Line up."
Teacher Kalego's voice, cold as obsidian, sliced through the sleepy murmurs of the students. As everyone formed a line, his eyes scanned them with scornful precision.
"There is something you all must know before the Battler Party begins."
The Misfits straightened. Even Clara stood stiff. Something in Kalego's tone felt… final.
"If your battler fails to place first or second, your ranks will not be upgraded. In fact—"
He paused, lips curling.
"If you come third… or fourth..."
He raised a hand, a chart manifesting behind him in green flame.
"You will be downvoted. By one rank. Each."
The reaction was immediate.
"WHAAAAT?!" Jazz cried out, nearly dropping his illusion orb.
"That's too cruel, sensei!" Shax wailed dramatically, flopping backward.
"Ugh… my image!" Ix Elizabeth muttered, holding her cheeks. "If I'm demoted, Oh no… my lovely rank~!…?"
Goemon clenched his fists silently, a cold sweat trickling down his brow.
Meanwhile, Sabro chuckled with arms crossed, the sunlight glinting off his teeth.
"Hah! I don't need to worry. I'll win on sheer power alone."
Asmodeus remained calm, flicking imaginary dust off his cuff.
"There is no cause for alarm. Iruma-sama's plan with the fireworks is guaranteed to earn admiration."
But Kalego wasn't done.
"Wrong. The vote count will matter. Each battler must secure at least 100 votes to avoid a demotion."
The lower the score, the lower you fall.
Now even Alice's brows furrowed. Clara pouted with a growing sense of dread.
That's when Iruma stepped forward.
His calm, confident voice cut through the unease.
"Sensei. How can we make sure we're not downvoted?"
Kalego blinked once.
Iruma's expression had no nervous stammer this time—only a quiet fire behind his eyes. A smirk tugged slightly at the corner of his lips.
"Not that it'll matter. I know we'll win."
Sabro grinned, finally looking at Iruma with open respect.
"Heh. My rival speaks boldly. Good."
Kalego sighed deeply, clearly not impressed by Iruma's rising confidence.
"Then impress them. Make a spectacle—drama, chaos, a duel. Something that demands attention. The vote of the masses is shallow. Give them a show."
The Misfits looked at one another. Sabro raised a hand.
"Like… like a battle royale?"
Kalego raised a brow. "If that's what it takes."
At first, the class murmured in agreement. They had strong members—Asmodeus, Sabnock, Iruma. Surely they'd win through power alone.
But Iruma, standing still, didn't nod.
He watched his classmates, sensing the unease behind their facades—Goemon's nervous shuffle… Jazz's cracking knuckles…
They're not all like Sabro or Alice. If we fight like we're superior, we'll divide ourselves again.
He turned to Alice and whispered,
"Azz, we shouldn't do it just for us. Let's make this about everyone."
Alice was taken aback, but then slowly nodded. "As you say, Iruma-sama."
Iruma turned back to the others.
"Let's show them not just a battle—but what it means to fight for each other. A battler isn't just about strength. It's unity. Make our battle flashy!"
Even Kalego paused for a moment.
With that, the Misfits agreed. Their Battler Party would end in a mock battle royale, but unlike the others—it would be unforgettable.
They would win together. Or not at all.
As the Misfit Class absorbed Kalego-sensei's dark declaration, a certain golden-haired demon stepped forward, his eyes shining with thrill.
"Heh... now this is finally interesting."
Sabnock Sabro's voice boomed with excitement as he cracked his knuckles. His lion mane flared with pride, and his sharp fangs gleamed in the sun.
"A chance to fight worthy opponents in front of the whole school... to prove I'm strong enough to become the next Demon King!"
He looked at Iruma and Asmodeus with a wide grin.
"But, Sensei—how do we fight? If it's just me and Iruma... or Asmodeus too... there's no challenge in that. Is it a duel? A team match?"
Iruma listened carefully, hands folded behind his back. He could sense Sabro's spirit burning like a torch. Nearby, Clara bounced in place with her usual chaotic energy.
"OOOH! Fight boom boom! Can I throw confetti AND firecrackers at the same time?!"
"Absolutely not," Alice muttered.
Agares Picero, lying flat on the ground behind a bush, let out a long "zzzzz" but lazily cracked one eye open.
"Mmm... sounds noisy... but I'm listening..."
Kalego smirked with wicked satisfaction, his arms crossed and cloak fluttering slightly.
"It's simple, fools. This will be a Battle Royal. All of you must participate. It's not about winning or losing, but how impressive your 'battle' looks to the spectators. Put on a show. Flash, power, strategy... sell it to the crowd."
The class gasped in unison. Even Picero let out a grunt of interest.
Iruma's eyes gleamed. An idea sparked in his mind.
"Then let's split into two teams," he suggested calmly. "A full-on clash. We'll give the students something unforgettable."
Sabro's laugh echoed across the training grounds.
"Hah! You dare challenge me so directly, Iruma?! I like it. I'll face you head-on."
"Then you'll be on the opposite team," Iruma smirked, "Try to catch me."
Alice nodded firmly. "Naturally, I'll join Iruma-sama."
Clara shouted while doing cartwheels. "ME TOO! I WANNA GO BOOM WITH IRU-MA CHII!"
Sabro's side immediately started filling with the powerhouse types.
Team Sabro: Golden Fighters
Sabnock Sabro (Captain)
Crocell Kerori
Agares Picero
Gaap Goemon
Andro M. Jazz
Allocer Schneider
---
Team Iruma: Dark Feather
Suzuki Iruma (Captain)
Asmodeus Alice
Valac Clara
Ix Elizabetta
Shax Lied
Purson Soi
Caim Kamui
Alice noticed the numbers were uneven.
"Iruma-sama, we have one more than them..."
"It's fine," Sabro said, waving it off. "This isn't about fairness. It's about giving our best."
Even the usually quiet Purson whispered, "...If it helps... I can turn invisible for God sake..."
Clara held up a big sign she had drawn in crayons that said:
"TEAM BOOM vs TEAM ROAR"
Iruma and Sabro walked toward each other slowly, tension rising. The air practically buzzed between them.
"I'll crush you with my full strength," Sabro grinned. "Iruma my rival i have been waiting for so long."
"Yeah, sure," Iruma returned the smirk. "Let's see if you can."
---
The grand carriage pulled in front of the mansion as the evening stars began to rise.
Iruma stepped out, dusting off his uniform and holding onto the event papers for the Battle Royal. His thoughts still lingered on the strategy for tomorrow.
Sullivan greeted him at the entrance, arms wide open.
"Oooh, my precious grandson is back~!"
"As dazzling and handsome as ever!!"
Iruma sweatdropped as Sullivan sparkled dramatically behind him.
"Where did you go this time, my boy? You forgot to tell Grandpa again, didn't you?"
"Ah—yeah… sorry Grandpa. "
Sullivan's face twisted playfully into mock horror.
"S Nooo! Grandpa's heart... is broken!"
Pretends to die with over-the-top theatrics.
Opera stood in the hallway with their arms folded, expression calm as always.
"You're late. Iruma-sama, I remind you again—going out for too long is dangerous for your health."
"Sorry, Opera-san... " Iruma bowed.
Dinner followed shortly—laughter, food, and Sullivan's constant teasing about "young love" and Iruma's next battle . Sullivan said to iruma that he and Opera will both go to see Iruma's Fight.
As the moon rose high, Iruma tucked into bed, Opera switching off the lights quietly.
Iruma sat on his bed, slipping off his uniform jacket and pulling out a notepad. He scribbled something:
"Sabro – Weapon Creation Magic. Crocell Kerori – Ice Façade. Gaap – Wind Blade. Agares –My Area . And jazz - pit magic"
"What is my Area? Is it kinda space magic or something or cube magic?"
"For ice, I have fire style or azz also has Fire magic so its fine"
"But there main problem is sabro"
He remembered the last time he saw Sabro's magic—towering axes, brutal hammers, blades of raw power. Even in a friendly match, that kind of might wasn't something you could take lightly.
"He's all offense and defensive . Close-range and also Long range. Pure... I am kinda jealous"
A puff of smoke emerged from the Ring of Gluttony, and Ali-san floated up beside him with a half-yawn.
"You look serious, kid. Something on your mind?"
Iruma glanced at him, then pointed at his notes.
"Sabro's magic... weapon creation. What's the best way to counter it?"
Ali raised an eyebrow, impressed.
"Hmph. You're thinking ahead for once. Good. Weapon-type demons are like siege engines—slow to start but deadly when they land a hit."
He floated in a slow circle, arms folded.
"There are only two reliable counters: speed and armor. Either dodge everything... or take the hit and keep going."
Iruma's eyes narrowed thoughtfully.
"Speed... armor..."
He looked at his hand and clenched his fist. The faint hum of his Rinnegan still buzzed behind his eyes. His magic training with Opera flashed in his memory—defensive barriers, elemental enhancements... and his new trump card.
"Susanoo..."
Ali caught the name and grinned.
"That's right. You've already got what you need. That skeletal Full body of yours—it's just the start. If you shape your Susanoo for defense, you can tank his blows. But..."
He paused.
"You'll need full control. Partial activation won't cut it against Sabro."
Iruma leaned back on his bed, staring at the ceiling.
"Then I'll have to evolve it. Faster summoning... stronger arms... Maybe even layer it over myself like armor."
Ali nodded with a rare serious expression.
"Now you're thinking like me."
The room fell into a comfortable silence.
Then Ali added:
"Just remember—Don't go to far. This is about showing your strength... not crushing someone else's."
Iruma smiled faintly.
"I know. That's why I want to go all out."
Ali floated down onto the windowsill, curling up like a lazy spirit.
"Then rest up, kid. You're gonna need every drop of Chakra you've got. Tomorrow's gonna be chaos right. And i will give you my magic"
Iruma nodded. He stared at the ceiling a little longer, imagining the clash, the crowd, and the firework cannon Clara had decorated with stuffed animals and glitter.
"... let's see how far we can go together."
He turned off the lamp, the room falling into darkness.
And in that quiet moonlit space, the future Demon King's heart beat steady and calm—ready for whatever came next.
The night grew quiet… until Clara's text tone blared across the room:
"TEAM BOOM RULES! "