A/N:
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I kept that kind, innocent smile plastered on my face as I leaned closer, my tone soft and reassuring, like I was explaining something to a child.
"I won't kill any of you, Riser. Do you get it? Not you, not your peerage. You'll all live."
For a moment, I let the words hang in the air, like a gentle breeze carrying false hope.
Then, slowly, my expression shifted—softening into something almost… regretful.
"But what should I do, Riser?"
I asked, my voice trembling with mock remorse.
"Because I clearly remember you bragging about how you'd make Rias and her peerage your slaves… while torturing me in front of her. Remember that?"
I reached out and patted his head—gently, condescendingly—like a master placating a broken dog.
"So, I'll return the favor. I'll make your whole peerage my slaves. Think of it as a reward for your… efforts, ok?"
His breath hitched, his broken body straining against the spikes pinning him down, but the holy cross wedged into his throat ensured nothing but muffled whimpers came out.
I continued, still in that conversational, almost friendly tone.
"You know, I love guys like you. So arrogant, so transparent. If I weren't human, you'd have announced your surrender 100s of times by now. But because I'm just a 'lowly human' in your eyes, that thought never even crossed your mind."
My hand drifted to his throat, tapping lightly against the holy cross embedded there.
"That's why I went through the trouble of rendering all of you speechless. Did you like that part, Riser? Losing even the ability to scream?"
The grin that spread across my face was wide, deranged, my words now spilling out with manic delight.
"I'll make sure every single one of your precious peerage suffers daily. I'll treat them as less than sewage, not even worth the dirt under my shoes."
I leaned closer, my eyes gleaming with twisted amusement.
"And your sister… your precious little princess with her pretty blonde curls… I'll treat her the best. I'll make her my special toy, my favorite slave."
His entire body trembled violently at that, but it only fueled my grin further.
Would I actually do it? No.
Too much effort, too much hassle.
Torture was work, and I didn't care enough.
But saying it?
Watching the terror and agony rip through his soul at just the thought?
That was effortless and super fun.
Of course, I'd still make them my slaves—just not for pleasure.
For labor.
To work for me endlessly, without wages, without rest, without dignity.
That was more than enough.
I gave Riser one last condescending pat on the head, like a master humoring his pet.
"Wait for a moment, ok? I'll end this match, and then you can watch as your peerage—your precious sister included—become my slaves."
With that, I stood and left him broken in the dirt.
Giratina slithered alongside me, her aura already stretching wide like a curtain of shadow.
Now it was time for the real plan.
After all, devils are still devils.
If I don't give them a firm warning—one they'll never forget—they'll repeat the same cycle again and again.
Giratina moved exactly as I had instructed during our fusion.
With each step I took, the air grew heavier, darker, more suffocating.
My presence alone was daunting—or at least I hoped, but cloaked in Giratina's aura?
It became something monstrous.
Something divine and horrifying at once.
At last, I reached the shattered heart of the new school building—the arena reduced to rubble and dust.
There, Giratina manifested a throne from writhing ghostly matter, jagged and dripping with darkness, yet unmistakably regal.
I sat upon it, leaning back like a sovereign claiming dominion over broken subjects.
Behind me, Giratina's form expanded until she towered like a nightmare given flesh, her whole body cloaked in swirling darkness.
Only her two colossal, glowing blue eyes remained visible—unblinking, piercing, eternal.
She stood behind me like a guardian dragon of the abyss.
The stage was set.
The entire devil community was watching.
…At least, that's what I hoped.
Wait.
It was being broadcast, right?
What if the angle's wrong?
What if all they're seeing right now is Giratina's giant back blocking me completely?
I swear, if my big speech ends up as nothing but background audio while she hogs the whole frame… tch, that'll be embarrassing.
I kept my expression composed, regal, terrifying.
Outwardly, I was a figure of madness and authority seated upon a throne of shadows.
Inwardly, though… I prayed to every power in existence that the camerawork wasn't screwing me over.
Ugh… damn it.
Now that the rush had ebbed, now that my blood cooled even a fraction, I felt it.The adrenaline was gone.
And with its absence came the backlash.
My stomach twisted violently, a churning knot I couldn't shake.
I swallowed hard, forcing bile back down.
Don't get me wrong—I have no regrets about what I did.
Torture, cruelty, breaking them down piece by piece… no problem there.
But tearing out an eye with my bare hands?
The slick pop, the wet warmth on my fingers…
Ugh... Gross.
Just disgusting.
It had been so easy in the moment—when my mind was fully immersed, when Giratina's power wrapped me in madness and purpose.
But now that I'd stopped moving, stopped fighting, the images replayed with clarity.
The sounds.
The texture.
It all came crashing back.
If anyone saw my face right now, they'd think I was trembling in shame or weakness.
But no one would.
Because they couldn't.
The black aura shrouding me was my salvation.
To them, I wasn't a young man with a churning stomach—I was a walking silhouette of black fire, a human-shaped abyss with only two unblinking eyes staring out.
They couldn't see me falter.
They couldn't see me gag.
I drew a slow, silent breath, steadying myself.
The king upon the throne remained untouchable.
The boy inside just wanted to throw up.
Anyway… I forced myself to steady.
No more hesitation.
No more weakness.
This was the final step.
I had already shown them I could fight in close quarters—that I could dismantle their warriors with my bare hands.
I had already proven I could be more merciless than the devils themselves, that cruelty was just another tool I could wield without flinching.
But now…
Now it was time to brand this lesson into their very souls.
To show them that crossing me wouldn't end in a clean fight or a glorious death—
Only in endless suffering.
A wide, manic smile tore across my face, stretching until it was less a human expression and more a primal madness.
The aura around me warped, twisting like a storm caught in a cage, mirroring that smile—carving my insanity into the very air.
I let it spread, let it infect the battlefield, until no one watching could mistake it.
After all…
I wasn't some pawn in their game.
I wasn't some human they could sneer down at.
I was the demon god standing before them.
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